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IN MEMORIAM : SOPHIE JEWETT Professor Margaret Sherwood 7 


GRADUATE STUDY AT WELLESLEY Florence Risley, 1905, M.A. 1911 11 




JOINING THE ARMY Evelyn E. Jamieson, 1914 18 

THE GREENHOUSE MAN (poem) Berenice I Van Slyke, 1913 22 

THE STREETS OF BERLIN Elizabeth R. Hirsh, 1914 22 

OCHRIDA BLUE (poem) Translated by Associate Professor Locke 25 


A PLEA FOR AN AWAKENING Sylvia T. Goulston, 1914 26 



No. 27 



| Who intend to adopt Piano Teaching as | 
a profession, should read 


Its Principles and Problems 

By Clarence G. Hamilton, A. M. 
During the Summer months. 
















It will give a good insight into the busi- 
ness side of piano teaching so necessary : 



to success. 

Price, postpaid, $1.25 

[ Oliver Ditson Company, 



150 Tremont St., Boston, Mass. 

Also For Sale at the College Bookstore 

Gifts for Every Occasion 



Diamonds and Pearls 

Gold and Silver Watches 
14 kt. Gold Jewelry 

Abalone Pearl Jewelry 

Chafing Dish Accessories 
Choice Imported China 
Sterling Silverware 
Cut Glass 

Clocks and Bronzes 

Leather Goods 


Metal Novelties 

We make a specialty of Class Pins 
Designs and estimates furnished upon request 

i\ 24 Winter Street, Boston 
If Jewellers for 90 Years 


Ctjanbler & Co. 

Tremont St., near West, Boston 

Suits, Coats, Dresses 

For Young Ladies 


For College and Outing Wear 




Lingerie Waists 





Neckwear Gloves Hosiery £ 

Parasols Petticoats 







Beverly Chocolates I 


The most delicious Chocolates ever 





Tiffany & Co. 

Jewelry, watches, rings, fobs, emblem 
pins, trophies, silver cups, note papers 
with monograms in color, invitations to 
commencement and class- day exercises 
menus, and dies for stamping corporate 
and fraternity seals 

Purchases can be made of Tiffany & Co. 


Fifth Avenue & 37 th Street 
New York 




Jordan Marsh Company 

Continually have the College Girl 
and her needs in mind :: :: :: :: 

Just now we are showing some new and particularly attractive 
Outing Garments. 

Wellesley Blazers, striped in Wellesley colors, also other college 
colors in belted model with four large pockets. Very smart at $10.00 

For Tennis — White pique, white linen and natural linen wash 
skirts in at least six models, $2.95 to $5.00 

Top Coats in the modish Snow-flake materials. Raglan sleeves 
and strapped back. Body and sleeves, silk lined, $29.50 



( There's some satisfaction in taking notes when you 

can get a lecture practically verbatims With a Moore pen not a 
second is lost, it never hesitates or requires an instant's attention. 

It writes when it should, instantly, always; requires no shaking. But you can't get a 
single drop out of it when the ink should stay inside. 

IT WON'T LEAK. The construction positively forbids. Carry it upside down or 
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eye-sight will convince you at a glance that Moore's is the pen that you should have. 

Prices $2.50 up. Moore's Midget, 3-1/2" long, $2.50. 


ADAMS, CUSHING & FOSTER. Selling Agents 





The Women's Educational 

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Makes a specialty of finding busi- 
ness positions for genuinely able 
women who do not wish to teach. 

For fuller details address Miss Florence Jackson 





Writing paper 

Made in all the fashionable sizes. Sold by nearly all 
stationers. Write us for Portfolio of samples, No. 11. 


" f*lVU U, 57.63 Franklin Street, Bost.n. 

Bailey, Banks & Biddle Co. 

Diamond Merchants, Jewelers, 
Silversmiths, Stationers. 




Illustrations and Prices of Class and Fraternity Emblems. 
Seals, Charms, Plaques, Medals, Souvenir Spoons, etc., mailed 
upon request. All Emblems are executed in the workshop* 
on the premises, and are of the highest grade of finish and 


Particular attention given to the designing and manufac- 
ture of Class Rings. 



Abbot Academy 

Andover, Massachusetts 



23 miles from Boston 

Ranked among the best preparatory schools by the leading 
colleges for women. Strong general course offering advanced 
work for girls who do not desire a college course. Experi- 
enced teachers. Thorough equipment. Long record of 
successful work. 

Miss BERTHA BAILEY, Principal 

Please Mention the Wellesley College News. 



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1. $. $oOantor & Co. 

Boston 1Rew JDorfc 


Ladies' Ready=to=Wear Silk Shirts 

Made on the same lines and with all the 
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In all the lat- 
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materials. J> 



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Wellesley Toilet 


• • • • 

Shampooing, Facial Treatment, 
Scalp Treatment, Manicuring, 

Hair Dressing, Chiropody . . 

Taylor Block, Rooms 4-5-6 


Telephone 122-W 

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BOSTON, MASS. until 8, P. M. 




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364 Boylston Street, 

C. F. HOVEY & CO. 



In a Large Assortment 
Specially Priced, $2.75 to $15.00 


Suitable for Travelling and Automobiling 

$18.50 to $45.00 

Ladies' Hatter 

We make a specialty of Hats 
attractive to Wellesley Students 

1 60 Tremont Street, - Boston, 

Over Moseley's Shoe Store. 




That Are As Different As 
You Please 

"Putter around" aprons, yet aprons 
that will not go against your aesthetic 
sense. One at 75c is of kimono style, of 
percale scattered with rose buds and fin- 
ished with pink percale. 

Quaint German "Hans frau" aprons 
that bespeak real practicality, 39c to 

Then, of course, chafing dish aprons 
and the fluffy affairs of muslin and lace, 
priced 25c to $2.50. 

(Apron Shop, third floor) 

William Filene's Sons Co. 

Outfitters to College Girls 




In all shapes and 


Walking Shoes a 

specialty, in tan 

or black. 

$4.00, $5.00, $6.00 

10% Cash Discount to 
Faculty and Students 

160 Tremont St., - - Boston 




Diamonds, Gems, Fine Stationery, Card 

Programs and Invitations 

Both Printed and Engraved 


Class Pins Designed and Manufactured to Order 
Fine Jewelry Repairing 

Parasols and Umbrellas Made to Order, Recovered 
and Repaired 

XLhc Wellesley College mews 

Entered at the Post Office In Wellesley, Mass., as second-class matter. 



No. 27 



To compress the multiform activities and 
achievements of our Wellesley professors 
into the brief space of a few magazine pages 
is assuredly an impossible task. When 
one is confronted with the fact that they 
have studied in almost every place where 
study is possible; that their books include 
text-books, novels, books of travel, books 
for children, histories, and volumes of poe- 
try; that their articles appear in most of 
the American magazines and some foreign 
ones; and that their outside interests are 
of the varied sort that might be expected 
from such a group, one feels that only in a 
volume of "Who's Who" proportions 
could justice be done the subject. It may 
be possible here, however, to suggest some 
of the reasons for Wellesley's pride in her 

The degrees held by our Professors and 
Associate Professors represent twenty-six 
American colleges and four foreign schools 
and universities; while many other foreign 
universities are represented by shorter peri- 
ods of study. To take up the departments, 
beginning with one of the oldest, that of 
Greek: Professor Chapin, who has been 
acting dean since 191 1, has studied in the 
University of Michigan and at Cambridge, 
England, besides working much in the 
American Classical School at Athens. Of 
the Associate Professors of Greek, Miss 
Edwards is a graduate of Cornell, her doc- 
tor's degree being from the same univer- 
sity; she has also studied at Bryn Mawr. 
Miss Montague is a member of the class of 
'79, the first class to graduate from Welles- 

ley, and she took her master's degree the 
first year that degree was conferred at 
Wellesley, in '82; her study has been con- 
tinued at RadclifTe, Athens, and Cam- 
bridge, England. 

Professor Hawes, the head of the Latin 
Department, whose special subject is so- 
ciety in the time of the Roman Empire, has 
studied in Leipsic, as well as at the Amer- 
ican School of Classical Studies in Rome; 
indeed, she spends almost every summer 
in the Latin countries— Italy, France, Spain, 
or Roman Africa. The Associate Pro- 
fessors in this department, Miss Walton, a 
graduate of Smith, whose doctor's degree 
comes from Cornell, and Miss Fletcher, 
whose work has been at Wellesley, Rad- 
cliffe and Harvard, have also studied at the 
American School in Rome; while Miss \\ al- 
ton's Archaeology, which she teaches as well 
as Latin, has taken her further afield, to 
Leipsic, Berlin, Munich, Vienna, London, 
Constantinople, and especially Athens. 

The Professors in the Departments of 
Modern Languages are equally well 
equipped. Professor Jackson of the Ital- 
ian Department was born in Italy and has 
lived there main years. Professor Mil- 
ler of the German Department is a gradu- 
ate of the Hanover Normal College, and 
has studied at Gottingen; last August she 
was present at the convention of German- 
American teachers in Berlin. Miss Scholl's 
work has been at Berlin, Heidelberg, and 
Zurich, from the last of which comes her 
doctor's degree; Miss Wiplinger has just 
returned from studying in Berlin, her pre- 


vious work having led to a B.A. at Bern 
and a doctor's degree at Freiburg. Pro- 
fessor Colin of the French Department has 
studied principally in Paris — in the Univer-. 
sity of Paris and the Sorbonne, among 
others; her doctor's degree was taken at 
Leland Stanford. She was decorated by 
the Ministere de l'lnstruction Publique of 
France, and consequently ranks with 
French University professors. 

Both Professor Macdougall and Asso- 
ciate Professor Hamilton of the Music De- 
partment have studied at Brown. Pro- 
fessor Macdougall's degree is the honorary 
one of Doctor of Music; he is also by ex- 
amination an Associate of the Royal Col- 
lege of Organists in London, one of the 
most important organizations of musicians 
In the world. 

In the Art Department Professor Brown 
and Associate Professor Abbot have been 
continuously associated with the develop- 
ment of recent art criticism, both in this 
country and abroad. The practical work of 
the department, while considered important 
and in many cases essential to sound ob- 
servation and criticism, is entirely subor- 
dinated to its purpose of illuminating the 
study of the history of art. This method 
study, originated by Miss Brown at the 
Slater Museum, Norwich, Connecticut, was 
brought by her to the college in 1897-98, 
and has borne fruit in the vitality which 
has always marked the department. 

Professor Kendall of the History De- 
partment has her degree of Bachelor of 
Laws from the Boston University Law 
School, and has studied besides at Oxford 
and Radcliffe; all of which has been supple- 
mented by first-hand investigation of pres- 
ent-day international situations by travel 
in Turkey, India and China. The last 
journey, in which Jack, the small Irish ter- 
rier usually to be found near the history 
office, was a companion, has resulted in a 
book — "A Wayfarer in China." Next sum- 
mer Miss Kendall hopes to spend in Russia, 
getting some impressions of the social con- 
ditions there. Of the Associate Professors 
of the History Department, Miss Orvis and 
Miss Moffatt are graduates of Vassar, and 
hold their doctor's degree from Cornell. 
Mrs. Hodder, whose study has been done 
at Syracuse University, the University of 
Minneapolis, Radcliffe and Cornell (her doc- 
tor's degree being from the latter), is en- 
gaged in special work in the Tudor period 

of English history, and has succeeded in 
getting hold of much interesting material 
for the college library. 

In the Department of Biblical History, 
Professor Kendrick, who is a gradute of 
Wellesley, holds her doctor's degree from 
Boston University, and Associate Profes- 
sor Locke, a graduate of Mt. Holyoke, has 
the degree of Bachelor of Sacred Theology 
from the Hartford Theological Seminary. 

Of the English Literature Department, 
Professor Bates, and Miss Shackford and 
Miss Conant, Associate Professors, are 
graduates of Wellesley; Miss Shackford 
holds also a doctor's degree from Yale, and, 
since her chosen subject is Mediaeval liter- 
ture, has studied much in England, France 
and Italy. Miss Conant's doctor's degree 
is from Columbia. Professor Scudder and 
Professor Waite did graduate and under- 
graduate work at Smith, and Professor 
Waite also studied at Yale. Professor 
Sherwood is from Vassar, with graduate 
work at Zurich, Oxford, Radcliffe and 
Yale, her doctor's degree being from Yale. 
Associate Professor Lockwood is a gradu- 
ate of the University of Kansas, and holds 
a doctor's degree from Yale. Mr. Young 
is a graduate of Harvard and has studied 
abroad. His special subject is American 
literature; he has been working on various 
problems connected with the interpretation 
of the ideal behind our democracy, as ex- 
pressed throughout American letters. 

Professor Hart, the head of the Depart- 
ment of English Composition, has degrees 
from Radcliffe and Michigan, while Miss 
Perkins has had both undergraduate and 
graduate work at Bryn Mawr. 

Professor Burrell, the head of the De- 
partment of Pure Mathematics, and Miss 
Merrill and Miss Vivian, two of the Asso- 
ciate Professors, are all graduates of Welles- 
ley. Miss Merrill has done graduate study 
at the University of Chicago, at Gotting- 
en, and at Yale, where her doctor's degree 
was conferred; Miss Vivian holds her doc- 
tor's degree from the University of Penn- 
sylvania. Miss Chandler is a graduate of 
the University of Michigan. 

Professor Calkins, of the Philosophy De- 
partment, who is a graduate of Smith, has 
worked at Clark University with Dr. San- 
ford, and at Harvard with Dr. Royce, Dr. 
James and Dr. Miinsterberg. She has 
passed the examination for the doctor's 
degree at Harvard, but Harvard does not 


give degrees to women, so her doctors' de- 
grees are the honorary ones of Doctor of 
Laws from Smith and Doctor of Literature 
from Columbia. Professor Calkins has 
the honor of being the first woman ever 
elected president of the American Psy- 
chological Association. Professor Case is 
a graduate of the University of Michigan. 
Miss Gamble, whose undergratuate work 
was at Wellesley, has studied at Gottingen 
and holds her doctor's degree from Cornell. 
Miss Gamble has done a unique work in 
her especial field of experimental psychol- 
ogy. She has accomplished results which 
no one else has attained, and her work is 
well known both in America and abroad. 

Professsor Coman, the retiring head of 
the Economics Department, has her degree 
of Bachelor of Philosophy from the Univer- 
sity of Michigan, while Miss Balch has 
worked at Bryn Mawr, Paris and Berlin. 
Professor Norton, of the Department of 
Education, is a graduate of Harvard; Dr. 
Skarstom, of the Department of Hygiene 
and Physical Education, studied in Swe- 
den and at the Harvard Medical School. 
Professor Bennett's degrees came from 
Boston University. 

Finally, the various science departments 
also show a wide range of university train- 
ing in their professors. Professor Whiting, 
who has been head of both the Departments 
of Astronomy and Physics and has done so 
much in building them up, did undergrad- 
uate work at Ingham University, studied 
abroad in Berlin and the University of 
Edinburgh, and holds a Doctor of Science 
degree from Tufts. Professor Hayes of 
the Departments of Applied Mathematics 
and of Astronomy, is a graduate of Ober- 
lin College. Miss MacDowell (Depart- 
ment of Physics) and Miss Davis are both 
graduates of Wellesley; Miss MacDowell 
holds the doctor's degree from Cornell. 
Professor Roberts of the Chemistry De- 
partment is a graduate of Wellesley, and 
her doctor's degree is from Yale; Asso- 
ciate Professor Bragg studied at the Mas- 
sachusetts Institute of Technology, as did 
Professor Fisher of the Geology Depart- 
ment. Miss Fisher has supplemented her 
college study by working largely in the 
field. In 1897 she was one of those at- 
tending the International Geographical 
Congress in Russia, where for four months 
the czar threw open the empire to geolo- 
gists and geographers. A long trip through 

the Canadian Rockies and Alaska, another 
through the Southwest to investigate can- 
yons and mines, and more recently a 
tramp through Switzerland for the purpose 
of studying glaciers, has made Professor 
Fisher thoroughly familiar with her sub- 
ject. Professor Robertson, the head of the 
Zoology Department, did undergraduate 
as well as graduate work in the University 
of California, her doctor's degree coming 
from that university; Miss Thompson, in 
the same department, holds her doctor's 
degree from the University of Pennsylva- 
nia, where her undergraduate work was 
done; Miss Hubbard has studied at Mt. 
Holyoke and the University of Chicago. 
Of the Botany Department, Professor Fer- 
guson and Associate Professor Wiegand 
have done undergraduate work as well as 
work for their doctor's degrees at Cornell. 
Of the other two Associate Professors, Mr. 
Riddle is a graduate of Harvard, taking his 
doctor's degree there also; while Miss Snow 
did undergraduate work at Goucher, and 
took her doctor's degree at the University 
of Chicago. 

The books and publications of Welles- 
ley's Professors are far too numerous to 
list completely; but as most of them are re- 
viewed in the College News upon their 
appearance, perhaps a mention of the most 
recent and the most important will suffice. 
Professor Muller's "Carla Wenkebach— 
Pioneer," is a bit of biography which is of 
especial interest to Wellesley people since 
Professor Wenkebach taught German in 
the college for nineteen years. Miss Mul- 
ler's "GKick Auf" is soon to appear in a 
revised and enlarged form, having proved 
one of the most popular readers in the 
United States; and she has on hand at 
present several works in the province of 
pure literature. Professor Coman, whose 
list of books includes 'The Industrial 
History of the United States," has recently 
published 'The Economic Beginnings of 
the Far W 7 est," in two volumes, a book 
which is attracting wide-spread commenda- 
tion for its close study and its originality, 
as well as for its interest. Professor 
Coman and Professor Kendall have done 
two books on English history in collabo- 
ration; Professor Kendall's new book on 
China has already been mentioned. Miss 
Balch's most important work is her very 
able treatment of "Our Slavic Fellow 


At present Mr. Norton is compiling 
historical sources for the revival of Classic- 
al Studies in Italy in the fifteenth cen- 
tury, the book to be along the same lines 
as his previous "Readings in the History 
of Education," which gave selected docu- 
ments from Mediaeval university records, 
with comments. More immediately, per- 
haps, Mr. Norton is concerned with 
studies of contemporary education, clinical 
studies of various types of children, etc. 

Some time ago, Professor Macdougall 
of our Music Department was interviewed 
in London concerning the surprising way 
music was taught in American colleges; 
which is significant of the fact that only 
in America is music study placed on the 
same basis as other college work. In this 
direction women's colleges have led the 
way, so it is pleasant to find our Professors 
of Music doing such "interesting publish- 
ing." Mr. Macdougall's "National Graded 
Course in Seven Books," is a series which 
is widely used by teachers, and Mr. Hamil- 
ton's "Outlines of Musical History," and 
"Sound and its Relation to Music," are text- 
books for colleges and secondary schools. 
Piano music, songs and anthems, the lat- 
ter often sung first by the college choir, 
are constantly being written. In this 
connection it is interesting to note that 
Miss Bates' "America the Beautiful," 
sung by the college on national days and 
Student Government birthdays, to Mr. 
Hamilton's setting, and lovingly called 
'The Wellesley 'America," is being 
brought out by Ditson with four settings: 
Mr. Hamilton's, and those of Mr. Fisher, 
Mr. John Carroll Randolph, and Mr. 
Sleeper, the minister of the Wellesley 
Congregational Church. This same 
"America" is to be sung (to still another 
setting) at the Fourth of July celebration, 
at Portland, Maine. 

It is impossible to do more than refer to 
Miss Bates' other published work. It 
comprises books of travel, such as "Spanish 
Highways and Byways;" stories; critical 
work, including "English Religious Dra- 
ma," and various critical editions; poems 
which appear from time to time in period- 
icals; and stories and poems for children, 
of which "The Canterbury Pilgrimage" is 
to come out in a holiday edition this fall. 

Among the publications of the Boston 
Drama League last year was a pamphlet 
on the Irish plays by Miss Bates; her last 

work has been a monograph called "A 
Conjecture as to Thomas Haywood's 
Family." Just now Miss Bates is busy 
with the manuscript left by Miss Jewett. 

Professor Sherwood's books are nearly 
as numerous as those of Miss Bates. Many 
of her charming short stories appear in the 
Atlantic Monthly; she has written as well 
for the North American Review, Cornhill 
Magazine, Scribner's, etc. Her last publi- 
cation is a dramatic poem, "Yittoria." 
It is interesting that one of her first novels, 
"Henry Worthington, Idealist," was one of 
the first books to be written about problems 
of modern social conditions. 

Miss Shackford has published "A First 
Book in Poetics," and "Composition-Rhet- 
oric-Literature." In 1898 she had the honor 
to receive the first award of the Cook poetry 
prize at Yale University. She has had 
verse, critical studies, book reviews (espe- 
cially on her chosen subject of Mediaeval 
Literature) and articles on travel appearing 
in such magazines as the Dial, Atlantic 
Monthly, and Modern Language Notes. 
Her latest book, on "Legends and Satires 
from Mediaeval Literature, " will soon be 

Besides many critical editions Miss 
Scudder is known for her romance, "A Dis- 
ciple of a Saint, "and for "Social Ideals in 
English Letters," and "Socialism and 
Character," which are widely used. For 
the Everyman series she has supplied two 
introductions, and is now interested in 
the issuing of translations from Arthurian 

Miss Conant has published an interest- 
ing study of "The Oriental Tale in England 
in the Eighteenth Century," one of the 
Columbia University studies in Com- 
parative Literature. Miss Waite has done 
editing, notably "Ben Jonson's English 
Grammar;" Miss Lockwood has edited 
many of Milton's prose writings, and has 
contributed much to scholarship with her 
"Lexicon of the English Poetical Works 
of John Milton." Miss Hart has edited 
various classics; Miss Perkins got out 
the recent "Vocations for the Trained 
Woman'' for the Women's Industrial and 
Educational Union, and wrote, too, a " Rhet- 
oric" which is entering its second edition. 

For the use of classes in Biblical History 
Miss Kendrick has arranged, with the help 
of other members of the department, 
various "Studies in the History and Relig- 


ion of Israel." Her booklets, "The Chris- 
tian Life" and "The Christian Church, " 
were published primarily for the College 
Christian Association, being topics for 
daily reading, but the former especially is 
now being much used outside of Wellesley. 

There is no need to comment on Professor 
Calkins' widely used text-books: The "In- 
troduction to Psychology" is in its second 
edition, and the "First Book of Psychol- 
ogy," as well as "Persistent Problems 
of Philosophy" are in their third editions. 
Professor Calkins writes for the Journal of 
Psychology, the Philosophical Review, for 
pedigogical journals, and German scientific 
magazines. Among the Wellesley College 
Studies in Psychology Professor Gamble 
has "The Choice of Stimulus Words for 
Experiments in Chance Word Reaction," 
which is an authoritative study of the re- 
construction method in memorizing, and 
represents seven years of study in the 
Wellesley laboratory. Professor Gamble 
has also had published recently in a collec- 
tion gotten out by the Westboro State 
Hospital for the Insane a paper on" Mental 
Deficiency, "which was done with Dr. 
Alberta Guibord's help. As the foremost 
authority among psychologists on smell, 
Miss Gamble reviews each year for the Psy- 
cological Bulletin any work that has ap- 
peared on taste and smell. 

Besides her text-books of Mathematics, 
Professor Hayes has published "Letters 
to a College Girl," and "Two Comrades." 
Professor Whiting's laboratory manual in 
Astronomy is one of the first and most 
useful contributions toward promoting 
the study of Astronomy by the scientific 
use of photographs. 

Very important experimental and re- 
search work has been done by members of 
our Science Faculty. Professor Fisher has 
investigated the "partition process" for 
the lateral movement of rivers; a process 
not hitherto known, the study of which 
"compels a new conception of river action." 

In the Astronomy Laboratory Professor 
Whiting has been measuring spectrograms of 
stars, which have been received through 
the courtesy of the Lick Observatory. 
An important new piece of apparatus is that 
for obtaining the Zeeman effect, by which 
it is possible to prove that the sun is ac- 
tually in a magnetic condition; thi> has 
been studied and set up. In the Physics 

Department, Miss Davis has been experi- 
menting with color photograph y. 

Professor Robertson has investigated 
the morphology and embryology of the 
bryozoa, and is now an authority on the 
bryozoa fauna of the Pacific coast of North 
America and Japan. Miss Hubbard, also 
of the Zoology Department, is at work 
now in her fourth Moor laboratory on 
the inheritance of variations in certain 
beetles; investigating some problems of 
evolution as well as the laws of in- 
heritance, in that field of genetics which is 
attracting so much attention to-day be- 
cause of the practical work of eugenics. 
Miss Thompson is investigating the brain 
structure of three different genera of ants; 
her work is entirely on histology. In the 
Botany Department, Miss Ferguson's au- 
thoritative work on the life history of Pinus 
was highly commended by the Association 
for Maintaining the American Woman's 
Table at the Zoological Station at Naples 
and for Promoting Scientific Research by 
Women, and was published by them. As- 
sociate Professor Wiegand has contributed 
to many botanical papers; after this year 
Wellesley can no longer claim him. as 
he goes to Cornell to organize there a 
large Botany Department under the Agri- 
cultural College. 

In the world outside of Wellesley our 
professors are known in other ways than 
by their publications. Professor Chapin 
had a lectureship at the American Classical 
School, Athens, in 1898-99. In the Col- 
lege Extension lectures given this winter in 
Wellesley, Professor Whiting, Professor 
Gamble and Dr. Skarstom have been 
among the speakers. Lectures on litera- 
ture are to be given in the spring. Profes- 
sor Gamble has also lectured recently at 
Mt. Holyoke. Professor Fisher has been 
appointed by the University Extension of 
Boston to give a four-year course of lec- 
tures on geography before the Teachers' 
School of Science. Associate Professor 
Scholl lectures in Boston to a group of grad- 
uates on the German Drama of the nine- 
teenth century; Professor M tiller spoke last 
summer to the State Teachers* Association 
al Manchester, N. H. Professor Scuddei 
has more requests for lectures than she has 
time to give, on Literature, or on Economic 
Socialism before church audiences. Though 
Miss Scudder's chief interest is in the 
interpretation of letters, she continues to 



devote much time to the service of Col- 
lege Settlements, the eastern branch 
of which she was instrumental in found- 
ing. She is Director of the Denison 
House work among immigrant Italians; 
the work is especially prospering this year 
because of a Lowell Lecture Fund grant 
for lectures in Italian which was secured 
by Professor Mary Wilcox, Professor 
Emeritus of Zoology at Wellesley. 

Miss Balch speaks this spring before 
the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences 
on Immigation Policies — Miss Balch being 
one of a committee which is trying to get 
the appointment of a state commission 
which shall investigate conditions among 
immigrants in Boston. She spoke recently 
before the American Association for Labor 
Legislation on her investigation of the 
minimum wage problem. Miss Orvis is 
interested in the Progressive Party on the 
educational side, especially in connection 
with Italian immigrants. At the January 
meeting of the Philosophical Association, 
a paper by Miss Case on "Hegel as an 
Observer of Thought" was read. Miss 
Homans will give a paper this summer at the 
Fourth International Congress on School 
Hygiene, in Buffalo. Earlier in the sum- 
mer she is planning for a two weeks' con- 
ference of the graduates of her depart- 
ment, the object being to bring spe- 
cialists of distinction before the Alumnae, 
and to discuss the advance made in hy- 
giene and physical education in this and 
foreign countries. Mr. Hamilton with 
Mr. Foster will take charge this summer 
of the Music Department of the Common- 
wealth Art Colony, at Boothbay Harbor, 
Me., an Arts and Crafts school of about 
four hundred. 

As might be expected, our professors 
are members of every sort of learned 
society, and have places on various impor- 
tant boards. Professor Chapin is on the 
Managing Committee of the American 
Classical School at Athens. Professor 
Hawes was on the Managing Committee 
of the American School of Classical Studies 
at Rome until the consolidation of that 
school with the American Academy in 
1912. Miss Walton is on the Council of 
the American Archaeological Institute, from 
the Boston society. Miss Hart is a trus- 
tee of the Woman's Educational and In- 
dustrial Union, and with Miss Bates is a 
member of the Boston Authors' Club. 

Professor Bates is also a member of the 
Poetry Society of America; and like Miss 
Coman is a director of the International 
Institute for Girls in Spain. Professor 
Coman has given much of her time to that 
work this past winter; she has also been on 
the State Committee of the Consumers' 
League and the Executive Committee of 
Denison House. Prof. Macdougall is one 
of the founders of the American Guild of Or- 
ganists and was for a time Dean of the New 
England chapter. He is also on the Board 
of Management of the Boston Art Club. 

Of the professors who are now on leave 
of absence many are doing interest- 
ing things. Miss Perkins, of the Depart- 
ment of English Composition, is teaching 
at the American College for Girls in Con- 
stantinople, and sending interesting articles 
on Turkish questions to the New York Post. 
It will be remembered that the college 
in Constantinople has had another Welles- 
ley Professor on its Faculty, for Miss Vivian 
of the Department of Mathematics was 
there for three years, during two of which 
she was Acting President. Associate Pro- 
fessor Moffatt of the History Depart- 
ment, and Professor Roberts of the 
Chemistry Department are spending the 
winter in Heidelberg, while Mr. Riddle 
of the Botany Department is also working 
in Europe. Miss Coman will also be 
abroad next year, though to Wellesley's 
regret it will no longer be as a professor 
of the college; she will be in England, 
France, and Belgium, studying problems 
of social insurance at Miss Jane Addams' 
request. Professor Bates will probably 
be in Spain 

No mention has been made of the years 
of faithful class room work that lie behind 
these names, though this is after all the im- 
portant part of being a college professor. 
There is no space, either, for praise of the 
many members of the Faculty who are not 
professors but who have done important 
and interesting work; or for the long roll 
of past professors, and the work of organiz- 
ing departments which is still going on. 
For all of this we have most grateful appre- 
ciation. The aim of this article, however, 
is rather to emphasize what is so often 
overlooked: the wide range of study our 
Professors bring to their work and the 
many things they are doing continually 
for the world outside. 

Isadore Douglas, 1910. 



Sophie Jewett. 

By still lake shore, or oak wood sere, 

One time there walked a lady here 

In garments green, whose ripples still 

Blend with the grass of field and hill. 

Through the dim blue of autumn haze, 

Through quickening spring's enchanted days, 

Erect, serene, she came and went 

On her high task of beauty bent. 

For us who knew, nor can forget, 

The echoes of her laughter yet 

Make sudden music in the halls. 

For aye these academic walls 

Give back that cadenced voice that reads 

Poetic tale of knightly deeds, 

Her head thrown back in swift-born pride 

In one who for his faith had died; 

A sudden splendor in her eyes 

At finding act of sacrifice. 

Earth had her merriment and tears, 
Her fine resolve, her quick-stung fears 
Of crawling selfishness and sin, 
Her quicker faith that good shall win. 
This brown world bringing joy and pain 
In days of gold, in lashing rain, 
Through all its myriad-minded strife 
She loved with warmth of human life, 
Revelled in every line and hue 
Of beauty sea and forest knew. 

Sharing her sorrow and her mirth, 
We knew her part of blessed earth, 
Yet knew she lived, eternally, 
The soul's hid life one may not see. 
Withdrawn, apart, by night and day, 
Her footsteps climbed the holy way, 
Up heavenly hills of longing, where 
The spirit takes the road of prayer. 

Nor dare we doubt that she, who then 

Trod the far world beyond our ken, 

Walks now, unseen, this earth of ours, 

Aware, as once, of sun-touched flowers, 

And hylas' plaintive cries, that bring 

The pain and peace of earliest spring; 

Of June's sweet fragrances, and all 

The subtle loveliness of fall. 

In gentle rain, in brightening air, 

Lo, she is here, and everywhere! 

Nearer than sight, or whispered word, 

Yet ours, though untouched, unheard, 

As eager as of old to share 

The beauty that one may not bear, 

So fine its poignancy of joy, 

Still busy in her old employ 

Of poetry, verse finely wrought 

That sets to music noble thought. 



One had to seek her then, but see! 

Forever waits she silently 

Where bitter need or trouble calls. 

Alway I hear her light foot-falls 

In crowded streets, where hunger waits 

At its unnumbered, swarming gates; 

And step by step with human ill 

Her healing footsteps follow still. 

Whenever sudden anguish cries 

I see the sweetness of her eyes, 

Where quivering shades of sorrow blend 

With vision of the perfect end. 

Margaret Sherwood. 



Editor's Note: — It is of interest to know that 
the author of this article, Harriet Farnsworth Gu- 
Kck, Wellesley, '87, has, with her husband, Mr. 
Edward Leeds Gulick, successfully established the 
Aloha Camp at Fairlee, Vermont, and that she is 
thus so ably fitted to tell us of the work, the life 
and spirit in one of the best known camps for girls. 

Within ten years there has developed 
a new and wonderful kind of summer 
vacation for the American girl which is 
having a deep influence on her whole life. 

Only recently, summers seemed ideal 
if we could spend a few weeks in the coun- 
try, possibly climb a mountain, row on a 
lake occasionally, bicycle about the town, 
and have a horseback ride once or twice, 
never forgetting always and everywhere 
to be immaculately dressed in dainty 
light clothes. Now, almost any day in 
summer, you may meet on the mountain 
trail, along some lovely wood road, or 
tramping through the woods, a group of 
sturdy girls, led by an older young woman, 
footing it gayly along the way. If you 
look pleasant and smile at them, they 
may even give in your honor their camp 
cheer, as with dusty feet and tanned, 
but rosy faces, they quickly pass you by. 
These girls in New England camps come 
from all over our country, chiefly from 
city homes to beautiful camp sights 
among the pines, along the lakes of Maine 
and New Hampshire, or from the equally 
beautiful, but less exploited state of Ver- 
mont. If you could hear their conversa- 
tion as they pass, you would quickly find 
that these sturdy trampers come from 
homes of refinement and luxury, and that 
they are hugely enjoying sleeping in tents, 
learning to swim, to drive, to row, to pad- 

dle, in short to live close to friendly Mother 
Nature through nine happy weeks of the 
camp season. 

Before asking what the relationship 
of such a life to college life may be, it is 
well to know a little more about the rou- 
tine, customs and ideals of camp life. The 
camp routine is apt to be much the same 
in many girls' camps. I will tell of the 
life in the camp which I know. 

The notes of the army bugle rouses all 
campers at seven and they must move 
quickly, for "assembly" will sound in ten 
minutes, and then from highland and 
midway, from lakeside and lodge the girls 
come flocking to the tennis-court for a 
ten-minutes setting up drill, deep breath- 
ing exercises, a run about the court, mili- 
tary marching or a lively folk dance, to 
the notes of the much used piano nearby, 
helped by the agile violinist at the front 
of the court. But that is soon over, and 
for those who came to calisthenics in bath- 
ing suits, a good plunge in the lake awaits 
them before they return with the rest 
for more leisurely and careful dressing 
before breakfast. 

After a hearty meal at eight, all the camp 
is busy from the newest of girls to the 
veteran-old camper, putting all in "ship- 
shape" order; making beds, sweeping 
each her tent floor, picking up every stray 
bit about her tent that might reduce her 
chances of winning the much-coveted 
banner given at the close of the season, for 
the best kept tent. At nine o'clock the 
notes of the "assembly" bugle again 
echo across the lake and all gather for 
morning prayers and a sing. The best 


time, some of the old campers have called every sleepy camper may take "forty 
this, of the whole happy day. Then an- winks," but if she won't "wink," write 
nouncements are made and delightful a wee note home, before the reading hour, 
trips and parties are planned. After a when the girls gather under the trees 
brief service the singing begins. Oh — with embroidery or craft work in hand 
the good old sings at our camp! None of to listen to some good reading from some 
the non-initiated know the fun of those choice new story, or some standard old 
camp sings, led by piano, cornet, and book, new to the listeners. But mean- 
violins — a most creditable orchestra — pre- while the camp is forming plans for all 
sided over by a musical genius, that in sorts of fun and games for the afternoon, 
but a few days makes the stolidest of excursions on foot or on horseback, a trip 
non-singers want to sing! The camp to a neighboring girls' camp, a steamer 
songs are written by the girls and coun- ride around the lake, a boat ride with 
cillors, and it is well if you have a quick some of the girls, or best of all — to some — 
memory, for there are many jolly songs a quiet paddle along the lake shore with 
to learn and new ones are being often a few friends. At 5.30 the supper call 
added to the long list. The singing ceases brings all scattered camp daughters back 
as soon as any readiness to stop can be to their hot supper with furious appetites, 
seen among the girls and all scatter to Then come the lovely camp evenings, 
their numerous appointments till the with basket-ball, or tennis, or a bonfire 
swimming hour. These appointments are in the ravine with camp songs and a good 
for the craft work of the morning, taught story, or a sing on the lake, when every 
freely to all campers by expert teachers, available water craft will be full to over- 
basketry, stencilling, leather-work, bench- flowing, while we serenade some neighbor 
work, jewelry and book binding. The or well-wisher of our camp, till in the 
girls elect which they prefer. It is hardly deepening twilight again the bugle notes 
possible to over praise this kind of work are heard echoing from bluff to mountain, 
at girls' camps. Our girls come to us so and each prow turns to the home shore — 
often — "tired of books and lessons and and from each little craft is heard the 
the dead routine of school," but glad and favorite sound — "Good-night — time sounds 
eager for some work to do with their a warning call, sweet sleep descends to 
quick hands and deft fingers. Surely all all — Good-night." Milk and crackers are 
play and no work would make Jill a dull ready for all, and all they want as each 
girl! The campers grow steadily in their goes by the dining-hall to her tent. Then 
fondness and enthusiasm for this work, taps come at nine and lights are out and 
By the last of the camp days, we fairly all is still except for a few giggles and an 
have to "shoo" them away from the emphatic "hush, shsh" from an honor girl; 
work benches, they become so enthusias- all is still but for that little rebel, the whip- 
tic over the beautiful work, which is to poor-will. Such is an average day, but 
go as a happy surprise or a Christmas gift this leaves out much, the many camp 
for dear ones at home. But after all, the dances, the evenings of charades, the 
11.30 bugle starting the swimming period stunt parties, the circuses, the reading 
is, perhaps, the most popular hour of the of the weekly Bugle, — the camp paper, — 
day. With a life-boat to watch the deep the trips to the mountains, — Cube, Mousi- 
water swimmers, and an expert swimmer lauke and the Presidential Range, — the 
instructing beginners, we try to eliminate real camping out for a night and sleeping 
all dangers from the lake. The fun and on the ground, doing one's own primitive 
frolic runs high and it is a joy to see how cooking and getting a bit of the feeling 
quickly the prim little city girls are trans- of our primitive ancestors as we broil 
formed into expert young mermaids. After our bacon and tend the camp-fire, 
the swim, unlike their brothers at boys' But just how are all these good times 
camps, the girls often sit about drying related to college life? 
their long locks in the bright sunshine. In camp a girl learns genuineness. She 
But all must be neat and tidy by 12.30, gives up her distinctive clothes for the 
for then, hungry as bears in spring time, time, her elaborate coiffure and her more 
they flock to the well-loaded tables. Then elaborate hat, and dons a camp uniform, 
comes a quiet time after dinner so that drops her hair down in two pig-tails and 



finds herself one of many with the superfi- 
cial unessentials eliminated. What she 
gives to the camp will not depend on the 
coffers at home, but on what she is herself. 
We care little whether my lady drinks 
out of a golden goblet at home, but we 
care much that she should pass the tin 
cup of the trail to her councillor and camp 
mates before drinking greedily herself. 
Her own attainments count for little un- 
less she can convert them into something 
for the life or happiness of her summer 

Resorting to the method of the ques- 
tionaire I asked camp girls at Wellesley, 
Smith, Vassar, Holyoke, Bryn Mawr and 
Chicago University this question: Has 
your camp experience had any influence 
on your college life? If so, what? One 
camp daughter writes: "Camp makes a 
girl more democratic and not so easily 
prejudiced by dress and general appear- 
ance, but she looks for what is in the girl. 
College life is much more selfish than camp 
life, for things have to be done and each 
one has to plan for herself, while at camp 
the spirit is much sweeter and not so crit- 
ical." Another writes, " Indeed I do 
feel that camp life is a fine preparation for 
college. First and foremost, because you 
have learned how to live with girls, and 
what things to care about and what 
things to dismiss. . . it helps you to 
get a true perspective. Perhaps, best 
of all, it teaches you to be unselfish with 
other girls around and to keep your temper 
in the little affairs that are so often an- 
noying. Moreover, it teaches you to go 
in for things and work at them for the sake 
of working. It gives you the true kind 
of enthusiasm. Perhaps many would have 
learned this at school, but I learned at 
camp how to get up stunts and manage 
parties, etc. You have learned at camp 
that in a community of girls, one can be 
informal. Often I have seen a Freshman 
stand back and shyly wait for an intro- 
duction, while the camp girl has already 
gone ahead and made acquaintances just 
because camp has taught her that among 
girls their common institution, which is 
their excuse for being there, is enough 

A college girl from Chicago writes: 
"As I think them over most of the benefits 
from camp life, — health, greater considera- 
tion for other people, increased ability to 

do things with others, independence, re- 
liability, — all apply to life in general as 
much as they do to college life. It seems 
to me, however, that the opportunity 
which the camp gives a girl to size herself 
up, as it were, is something which in- 
fluences her college life more particularly, 
perhaps, than anything else. In the 
democracy of camp life, a girl soon finds 
out what she really is, and what she can 
do, and the poise and confidence that 
comes from this knowledge is one of her 
greatest assets in college life." 

Another from a larger eastern college 
says: "It teaches a girl the meaning of 
fair play, which is a lesson she must learn 
before she comes to college. There are 
games at camp and there is the feeling 
of being on one's honor at everything 
one does. If a girl comes to college at 
seventeen or eighteen, where there is 
student government, she must, above all 
things, be truthful — play fair. Athletics, 
of course, are a training for college teams 
and the regular hours are simply aids to 
formation of good habits." 

Another, after speaking, as all do, of 
learning how to get on with many girls 
constantly about, adds: "Camp taught 
me how to adjust myself to this community 
life, and I have been deeply grateful for 
it many times, too. Camp teaches some 
of the community spirit, and you can't 
help regarding other people's rights a 
little more, and seeing more clearly the 
needs and rights of student government. 
It was good, too, to know camp girls 
already at college; it at least made the 
way easier for me to find so many camp 
friends when I came as a Freshman to 
college. The biggest part of all is the added 
self-reliance and adjustability, and I don't 
believe a boarding school, with its rather 
strained atmosphere, could do it so well." 

Another writes breezily: "How can I 
express the wonderful experience that my 
camp has given me, ever since, a little girl 
of twelve, I got out at the steps of the 
camp and was introduced as one whose 
only appreciation of the beautiful scenery 
along the Connecticut was, 'Oh, my land.' 
Before I went to camp, I knew but one 
girl well. At camp I first chose the ones 
with whom I came in contact, without 
taking further thought. It took me a 
long while to learn that the girls whom I 
most admired were the ones I should try 



to know, that it was not necessary to 
wonder whether they would let me play 
with them. Now, in college, I know one 
is judged by the company she keeps. 
Seventy-five or fewer girls at once where 
one is used to only one, is almost over- 
whelming. What would a thousand have 
been to me, had I not had my camp ex- 
perience! I am sure camp taught me to 
realize that it is not the conspicuous 
things that always count, and to get the 
good that college offers in my own way. 
The routine of camp is a pleasure to re- 
member. I am glad I have had experience 
in dividing my time, when I see poor, tired, 
overworked girls, who do not know when 
they need rest, who cannot realize that 
the mind and the body, to keep healthy, 
must have complete quiet at times. Some 
girls here do not know the treasures in a 
long walk over hill and dale, along the 
brookside, through the woods, when all 
thoughts of lessons are behind." 

Another adds: "Camp life taught me 
how to get along without mother, how to 
fight homesickness and to* get out of my- 

Another prominent college girl writes: 
"Emphatically camp did prepare me for 
college life, but to explain just how, is 
not quite so simple. There are, of course, 
the physical advantages gained at camp, 
which prepare a girl for college. She gets 
a reserve of strength and steady nerve 
that help her immensely to withstand the 
nervous strain of college life. And then, 
too, this strength enables her to do much 
more and to get more out of college. 

But the most important way in which 
camp, or perhaps I should say our camp, 
as I do not know other camps, prepares 
a girl for college is in the opportunity that 
it gives for frank comradeship with college 
women. It is an inestimable advantage, 
I think, to know intimately people who 
have done or are doing what you are ex- 
pecting to do, and camp, as no other place 
that I know of can do, influences a sub- 
Freshman immensely. Perhaps what I 
mean could be summed up in saying that 
she gets the true college spirit, in the best 
meaning of that much-abused word. 

Harrtet Farnsworth Gulick, '87. 


"Pythagoras, the light of Magna Graecia, 
lived for a time in a cave," and a- good 
many persons with a turn for etymology 
will trace your "graduate student" directly 
to "Pythagoras" by those same cave marks 
which, they aver, are but too apparent in 
the derivative. They sniff the mould 
and damp in his pale cast of thought, and 
pity his unaccustomed eyes dazed by the 
bright world. Ah well, I have no turn for 
etymology, but I have a weakness for 
caves, and who shall say there is no grain 
of truth in all this? Certain it is that 
Pythagoras was searching for wisdom 
and that he chose for his helpers leisure, 
the best teachers, and sympathetic com- 
panionship. What else do we? It was for 
wisdom that, "exempt from public haunt," 
he listened to the sermonizing of the stones, 
read the running brooks, and delighted in 
the company of his own good thoughts. 
Even in our day there is no ban upon one's 
own thoughts, and we still learn gladly 
from those teachers of the hillside and 
field: but we have not yet attained that 

eminence where no human teachers are 
above us, no human companions our peers. 
Graduate -life — for it is not so dull as to 
be all work — is a different matter from 
merely a fifth or sixth year at college. It 
represents a different adjustment of the 
obligation upon the teachers and the 
taught. Professors justly expect both 
a more insatiate and a more enlightened 
spirit of inquiry in their students, and 
these in turn look for a greater freedom 
in the use of their time. Under the direc- 
tion of a college course, if the parties to the 
contract have been reciprocally dutiful, 
a student has travelled in various realms 
of knowledge 

"And many goodly states and kingdoms 

until from his own experience he comes to 
imagine truly how vast is the whole world 
of knowledge. But who that has travelled 
has not longed to abide, not only to gape 
at "towers, domes, theatres and temples," 
to mark the strange manners and speech, 



and pass on to gape and wonder again; 
but to stay until the faces of the people 
take on their rightful look of kinship with 
their greatest works, until the alien himself 
becomes a neighbor where 

"all were neighbors and hand lay warm in 

Graduate study is the abiding in that 
pleasantest spot of all, where is new work 
to do, new life to live, and where, too, 
splendid characters — a noble array — have 
come before, lingered, and established 
themselves in their own right as scholars. 
In undergraduate study we hear these 
scholars talked of in the circles of our 
elders, we are led up on all occasions to 
make our bows; but among ourselves 
we regard them as crusty and eccentric 
landlords upon whose great estates we 
poach with scarcely a twinge of conscience. 
Initiation into graduate work involves 
the acquiring of a decent and courteous 
respect for the property of others and a 
decent and humble respect for our own 
daily efforts at proprietorship. 

I do not mean to say that a rampart 
or moat or any such thing divides all 
graduates from all undergraduates, and 
until they are in they are entirely out. 
In spite of the efforts of the college to es- 
tablish uniformity in entrance require- 
ments, everyone recognizes the disparity 
in the preparation of entering students; 
and in spite of the good Mater's best 
care, an almost equal disparity remains at 
the end of the course. The powers for- 
fend that these mental seedlings should 
be set and trimmed into a formal hedge, 
their growth one inextricable tangle, and 
every shoot lopped off that puts out to 
catch a sweeter breeze, a more embracing 
light! Yet it is the constant wish of the 
college to give individually that care 
and nourishment which in the end shall 
make all of equally study stock, each 
after its kind. Some students early rec- 
ognize the unity of knowledge and the 
relations between the parts; and for such, 
graduate work is a straight road and a 
fair, leading through whatever region to 
that one goal of truth where science and 
philosophy are one. Ruskin defines a 
university as a " place where only certain 
persons come to learn everything; that 
is to say, where those who wish to be able 
to think, come to learn to think: not to 
think of mathematics only, nor of morals, 

nor of surgery, nor chemistry, but of every- 
thing rightly." The too often expressed 
and too, too often felt disparagement of 
other than the chosen subject of study 
must be my apology for a little homily, 
since it shows how many of those who 
pursue graduate work are likely not to 
catch it for many a. day. These are they 
who dart down every little wilding path 
and mistake soul-withering erudition for 
wisdom, or the course of least resistance for 
the course of all-conquering genius. 

Much breath and much ink are spent 
in praise of the "all-round development" 
a college training stands for. However, this 
over-proclaimed rotundity must be looked 
to or it will quite lose its first centre 
by too much stuffing on the non-aca- 
demic side. It is a perverted notion 
of 'all-round development" that lets it 
be expected from any amount of extra 
academic interest in social work or social 
play, politics, or the fine arts, without a 
first and greater interest in not one only 
but varied academic subjects, properly 
more theoretical than practical. What 
eyes are fit to read the poets that have not 
been trained to see clearly and accurately 
what is before them, to mark the sea 
when it is "wine-dark," to note the rubies 
in the gold coats of cowslips? What are 
symphonies to ears that cannot hear 

"the small gnats mourn 
Among the river shallows?" 

Who that objects to the severity of ab- 
stract reasoning can hope to be consistent 
and effective in the planning and execu- 
tion of any work of art or affairs? To 
borrow Newman's quotation from John 
Davison, "A man of well improved 
faculties has the command of another's 
knowledge. A man without them, has 
not the command of his own." 

On this foundation of trained faculties, 
graduate work builds up that true self- 
possession which comes from the mastery, 
through prolonged labor, of some one 
difficult subject. Leisure and inspiration 
are the mainstays of this as of all prolonged 
labor; and the degree in which they are 
offered should determine one's choice of 
college or university for higher work. 
The patience essential to a scholarly re- 
gard for truth can hardly be learned 
without leisure. To expect students con- 
tinually to accept big, new ideas in the 
lump, is to induce rashness and super- 



ficiality — those direct contradictions to the 
nature of scholarship. Certainly an in- 
finite capacity for taking pains-whether 
or not we call it genius — is the victorious 
foe of mediocrity, while rashness and su- 
perficiality are its boon companions. Of 
course this desired leisure is not one 
in which to dawdle, to let schemes 
and theories evaporate for want of con- 
densing effort, nor one in which to amass 
encyclopaedic information under the de- 
lusion that it is scholarship, and that it 
will reward with loveliness that "infinite 
love of learning" which is the student's 
best mentor. Desultory zigzagging through 
a course of study, so far from enriching, 
enervates and slackens the powers so 
that it becomes increasingly difficult to 
thwart the tendencies of the Mr. Brooke 
or the Mr. Casaubon, in one's mental 

At Wellesley the attitude toward this 
very important factor of sufficient time is 
a generous one. While it is possible for 
good students and diligent to take the 
M. A. degree in one year, yet it is 
usual and wholly without opprobrium 
to spend two years in carrying the same 
number of courses. This policy dis- 
tinctly raises the quality of the graduate 
work; for it is only reasonable that grad- 
uates simply by virtue of being graduates 
cannot do markedly better work with fif- 
teen hours than seniors who have their 
hands pretty full with that number or less. 
Another advantage of this policy is the 
chance it gives to make use of such a city 
as Boston, the richest in intellectual tra- 
ditions of all American cities, whose early 
prestige is maintained in such living 
monuments as the public and semi-pub- 
lic libraries, museums, lectureships and 
clustering institutions of learning. I 
need add not a word of Wellesley's exul- 
tation in having all this at will and her 
own fair seclusion besides. Anthony 
Wood — whom I have some reason to 
quote tenderly — who loved his own Oxford 
most entirely, makes his requirements 
for a university: "First, a good and pleas- 
ant site, where there is a wholesome and 
temperate constitution of the air; com- 
posed with waters, springs or wells, woods 
and pleasant fields; which being obtained, 
those commodities are enough to invite 
students to stay and abide there." 

As for inspiration, that second and more 
important factor in prolonged labor, it 
may and happily does come often from 
books, often from the "collision of mind 
with mind" in the class room, often from 
personal example and encouragement. 
Nowadays when one may have his "twenty 
bokes" without going threadbare for them, 
or may read for the asking thousands of 
volumes in any town library, it would 
seem that inspiration from books is as 
likely to come in one place as another. 
And yet something could well be said for 
the lessening of friction in a woiking 
college library, where through the con- 
stant sifting by those who know, the 
most reliable books are kept nearest to 
hand. The inspiration that comes from 
class room discussion is very far from neg- 
ligible, and cannot be quite replaced by 
any other. Where all have worked, all 
are interested and alert, each will be 
sharp to find the weakness in another's 
argument and on his metal to maintain 
his own. As in good sport it is better 
to run and lose than not to run at all, 
among one's peers it is better to be refuted 
than not to have ventured to think. But 
better than books alone, better than dis- 
cussion alone, which if unguided is too fre- 
quently misguided, is the generous leader- 
ship of them that go on from strength to 
strength and pause only to cheer us in the 
way. What I should like to be able to 
say Newman has already said in his essay 
on "The Rise and Progress of Universi- 
ties" in a way that can bear many repe- 
titions. Books are well enough, but when 
people "aim at something precise, 
something refined, something really lu- 
minous, something really large, some- 
thing choice, they go to another market; 
they avail themselves, in some shape or 
other, of the rival method, the ancient 
method, of oral instruction, of present 
communication between man and man, 
of teachers instead of learning, of the 
personal influence of a master, and the 
humble initiation of a disciple, and, in 
consequence, of great centres of pilgrim- 
age and throng, which such a method of 
education necessarily involves. What- 
ever be the cause, the fact is undeniable. 
The general principles of any study you 
may learn by books at home; but the 
detail, the colour, the tone, the air, the 
life which makes it live in us, you must. 



catch all these from those in whom it 
lives already." 

The graduate department at Wellesley 
is still small in numbers, so that few 
courses, if any, are not shared with seniors. 
There is a recognized benefit in this ar- 
rangement; but it is generally supposed 
to operate from above downward. A 
little leaven of older, presumably more 
responsible and more eager students, lifts 
and expands the interest of the under- 
graduates; and the result is noticeably 
better work. However, from my own 
observation I believe the benefit has an 
upward direction as well. Superiority 
of intellectual power is as likely to be on one 
side as the other; and even supposing the 
graduates have the start by longer appli- 
cation, I think the younger students' 
very lack of experience serves to check 
an excess of technicalities with which 
graduate work is often taxed, and to 
ward off the danger of missing the obvi- 
ous out of zeal for the hidden. Still 
working upwards, the presence of grad- 
uate students in a class tones up the 
character of the instruction given; it is 
impossible for a teacher to give his best 
to languid students, and no less impossi- 
ble to withhold his best from eager ones. 

If there are advantages to graduate 
students at Wellesley in being few in 
class rooms, there are far more and indis- 
putable advantages in their closer com- 
munication with those guides, counsellors 
and friends in whom the "colour, the 
tone, the air, the life" of the subject 
live. Their researches in library and 
laboratory, their examples as investiga- 
tors and students, as champions of true 
thought are an inspiration; yet it is one 

thing to stand without the pale and see 
these who are already masters 

"Work apace, apace, apace, apace," 
and quite another to be initiated by 
their own hands into the mysteries of 
productive scholarship, to have them 
often as tolerant and kind and unerring 
coworkers. Whatever may be said of 
material equipment in libraries and in 
apparatus for scientific experiment, it is 
the personal relation between master and 
disciple which counts for more than all 
else in advanced study. And it has been 
so from the beginning. The schools of 
ancient Greece and the universities of 
mediaeval Europe were merely the con- 
course of learners wherever famous teach- 
ers established themselves. Men crossed 
seas and mountains and endured hard- 
ships to reach and abide in Bologna or 
Paris or Oxford, not for the "wholesome 
and temperate constitution of the air," 
"the woods and pleasant fields;" but 
because in this or that place living teach- 
ers, — masters of the quadrivium, doctors 
of the law or medicine, expositors of the 
Fathers, were giving themselves indefati- 
gably for learning's sake. 

So long as comparisons are what that 
merciful man Dogberry says they are, I 
need not indulge in any between Welles- 
ley's graduate department and others. 
It is enough to have spoken whereof I 
know concerning the ideal cherished there 
of intellectual expansion, as Sir Thomas 
More has it, "the free liberty of the mind 
and the garnishing of the same;" an ideal 
in which intellectual grace and beauty 
and generosity are implicit. 

Florence Rtsley, 1905. 




When you turn your tassels to the right, 
1913, and step into the ranks of Welles- 
ley's Alumnae, aren't you planning to 
march in the army of our College Settle- 
ments Alumnae Chapter as well? If you 
have been College Settlements Association 
members in college, of course there will 
be no question, and if you haven't, we 
want you just the same! 'Tis a splendid 
way to prove your college loyalty and 
your interest in social service besides, 
so when you are asked this spring to 
pledge your membership for next year, 
please say "yes." 

Our Alumnae Chapter should certainly 
be loyal in its support of the Association, 
for we have Wellesley graduates as head 
workers in two of our four settlements, 
Miss Geraldine Gordon at Denison House, 
Boston, and Miss Eva Louden at the 
Locust Point Settlement, Baltimore, to 
say nothing of our Fellow, Miss Marion 
Loker, 191 2, now working at the Riving- 
ton-street House in New York. Last year 
we raised $1,033.50, but that is a trifle 
in comparison with our numbers and the 
tremendous needs. By 1914 we must 
make our contribution at least $1,500, and 
this can be done if the outgoing class and 
the less recent Alumnae rally enthusias- 
tically to our aid. 

Think of the comfort given to the 820 
people under the care of the resident nurse 
at Denison House, last year, and keep 
in mind that 4,705 visits to the sick were 
made during twelve months! 

Think of the young men's gain in power 

to take responsibility shown by the fact 
that the club rooms and gymnasium of 
our New York Settlement have been 
turned over entirely to the care of the 
Association known as the Young Men's 

Think of the Baltimore Settlement, 
new and small, but very valiant, holding 
many clubs and classes in painfully cramped 

Think of the valuable training in co- 
operation gained during weeks of working 
and playing together in vacation time at 
Mount Toy or at Chalkley Hall! 

Think of the Philadelphia settlement's 
struggle to raise $1 ,300 to purchase the house 
now in use by its Front-street Branch! 
When we consider that about 1,500 people 
belong to the constituency of this house, 
the investment seems quite worth while.. 

Think of all these things, multiply them 
by the hundred, and you will have some 
idea of what forces our settlements are 
and may become in their overcrowded 
city communities. Then won't you decide 
to help Wellesley carry her fair share in 
supporting the work? 

If you are an Alumna who has never 
joined, a subscription will be gladly re- 
ceived now by the treasurer, Miss Jose- 
phine Thayer, 11 West Street, Milford, 

If you are a Senior, a pledge is all we 
ask this spring. 

Eleanor P. Monroe, 1904, 

Alumnae Elector. 




I wonder if those who object to the 
student body's Saturday exodus to Boston 
realize what those trips are going to mean 
to the girls in later years. It seems silly, 
I might say, harmful, at first glance. But 
how many, who bewail the custom, have 
lived far away from the centers of art 
and culture long enough to become hun- 
gry for that which is to be had in Boston? 
To these I need not appeal. 

The girls may not realize what wonder- 
ful opportunities they are having to store 
their minds for meagre years when col- 
lege has become a memory, but uncon- 
sciously they are doing what will help 
to make life a bigger, finer thing for them 
later on. For even the most frivolous 
musical comedy has some saving grace, 
whether it be a lilting melody or only the 
associations of the city itself. It is a 
human experience in the life of a great and 
famous city outside the walls of bookish 
theories and abstract problems. 

This may not seem applicable to girls 
who have lived their lives in large cities 
and have never known a time when music, 
art, literature, the drama, were unob- 
tainable. But practically no girl not a 
Bostonian has ever lived in, or will again 
live in the atmosphere she feels, uncon- 
sciously, perhaps, in Boston, unless she 
stays there. 

For the Western girl, it is a revelation. 
It is a new world with strange people and 
she widens her horizon by brushing shoul- 
ders with the crowd in the subway or on 
the streets. She is in an atmosphere not 
dreamed of at home, no matter where 
that home has been. Nor is this experi- 
ence limited to the Western girls. It is 
true of most girls from all over the country, 
except possibly New England, but es- 
pecially so of girls from small communities 

where experience with people has been 
limited. They cannot but feel the per- 
sistent presence of culture which permeates 
everything. Even the newsboys have an 
Irish — or Italian — Bostonese accent. 

If, then, the girls flock to Boston on 
Saturday, may it not be in answer to an 
unconscious call within themselves? For 
six days they have lived in an atmosphere 
of the femininely academic, happy and 
absorbed in the purely theoretical. That 
half-day's relaxation of change of sur- 
roundings ought to fit them for the re- 
sumption of the serious work of their lives, 
just as work in the gymnasium does. It 
ought to help them to keep in touch with 
the work-a-day world outside the walls 
of the purely intellectual. And speaking 
for many graduates and former students 
with whom I have talked, it would seem 
a great mistake to limit the Saturday 
trips to Boston. 

College girls are not boarding-school 
girls. They ought to be able to choose 
wisely what they need and want. If they 
do not, it would seem wiser to help se- 
lection rather than limit opportunity. 
All of those with whom I have talked 
are unanimous in saying that the Satur- 
days and Mondays spent in Boston are 
among the most stimulating and enlighten- 
ing experiences of their college lives. They 
stand for the realities of life viewed from 
the height of the theoretical, to which 
said theory was applied. 

And because these trips to Boston mean 
much to them, it would seem unfortunate 
to limit the single half day which is now 
at the average student's disposal, thereby 
endangering some part, at least, of the 
humanizing influence in the college girl's 
academic career. 

A Western Graduate. 





Carthage, Tunisia, March 18, 1913. 

It is not every day that one engages 
a room at a hotel and finds oneself in 
possession of an entire villa, and yet this 
is what has happened to us. Carthage 
revealed itself to our astonished eyes as a 
spot so lovely and so beseeching that the 
single day we had planned for it was not 
nearly enough. So we stopped at the little 
hotel, said we might return in a day or 
two, inquired if we could get a room, and 
were assured that we could. 

Perhaps it was my French which was 
responsible for the result, or perhaps it 
was because few Americans come to this 
small Mediterranean town, and fewer stay. 
But whatever the reason, this evening 
when we arrived, the smiling proprietor 
seized our bags and led us, not into the 
hotel, but up the country road a little 
way, through a white pillared entrance, 
up a newly mowed path, to a small square 
villa with tiled and balustraded porch 
and long Moorish doors and windows. He 
flung open the door: behold a sitting-room, 
with center table, rugs, hanging lamp, 
easy chairs; behold three spotless, softly- 
tinted bedrooms, a bath, a tiled kitchen 
with shining white porcelain stove! Be- 
hold, outside a neatly swept garden with 
sanded walks, a small hedge of orange 
trees in fruit, a summer house and an arbor 
with climbing pink geraniums! Here and 
there are white seats which prove to be 
fragments of some ruined Roman capital 
or column, and there is a green latticed 
gate opening to the road behind. The 
proprietor inquires anxiously if we are 
afraid to stay here alone, and probably 
thinks that our speechless headshaking is 
due to our lack of fluent French, rather 
than to the whirl of emotions which has 

swept over us. He explains volubly that 
we may have our meals sent up from the 
hotel or may come for them at any hour 
we wish, shows how to drop the Venetian 
shutter over the door at night, and assur- 
ing us that he will return with hot water 
immediately, he vanishes. 

We stare at each other as in a dream. 
We are in Carthage — and we look out over 
the shimmering water, over the fields with 
their tumbling heap of ruins and the road 
where the flocks are wending homeward. 
We are in Carthage, and we are in posses- 
sion of a villa, a garden, a terrace and green 
latticed gate! 

We make a minute examination of it 
all, and discover that the house has been 
freshly whitewashed, the flower beds fresh- 
ly weeded for our arrival. 

Above us on the right is a walled mon- 
astery; far away on the left gleams the 
next hillside village. Before us is the bay 
where once lay the ships of Tarshish which 
were the talk and wonder of the world. 
And, here too, is the beach, where "on 
such a night as this, stood Dido with a 
willow in her hand, and waved her love 
to come again to Carthage." 

Hark — the same birds that in ancient 
days were heard by emperor or clown are 
singing as they sang three thousand years 
ago — still charming magic casements open- 
ing on the foam of perilous seas. 

We are in Carthage, in our own villa, 
and garden with a terrace and a green 
latticed gate ; our own for a brief space as 
men may reckon time, but forever ours 
in the reckoning of memory. 

Agnes Rothery, 1909. 

(From Agnes Edwards' Diary of Travel 
in the Boston Herald.) 






HILIP dear, I think perhaps 
we'd better have that shade 
lowered. The sun is in father's 

" Yes'm." After breaking his egg into a 
cup, Phil slowly unwound his long legs 
from the rung of his chair and shuffled list- 
lessly over to the south window. As he 
returned to pick up his napkin and finish 
his egg, he tweaked Frances' hair rib- 
bon quickly. 

"Gosh, what a bow," and he curled 
his feet up under him again. 

"Frances wouldn't let the sun shine 
in her face 'cause she's afraid she'll have 
freckles when she graduates." This from 
observing eight-year-old Marion. 

"It's a cinch she has to look as decent 
as she can, because nobody can hear a 
thing she says. Ain 't got no voice at 
all — poor little thing," and Phil prepared to 
snap his napkin at her by way of emphasis. 

Mother, in order to avoid a very immi- 
nent quarrel, addressed her remarks to one 

"Phil, you haven't taken out the 
furnace ashes yet. If you expect to be 
allowed to fix up that wireless station, 
you'll have to help me around the house. 
Now John Stewart's mother told me 
just yesterday . . . . " 

Phil was already rummaging over the 
buffet top for his car book and book strap. 

"Is this all the lunch a working man 
gets?" and he jammed the dainty package 
into a coat pocket, stuck on his checked 
cap, and tore down the front steps for the 
car just leaving the corner. 

The assembled family watched his de- 
parture with very evident relief. Family 
breakfasts on hot, "muggy" May morn- 
ings are not, as a general thing, either 
particularly harmonizing or enjoyable, and 
this one seemed a little more than the usual 
exchange of family pleasantries. 

"My, my — his father all over again," 
Aunt Ruth remarked, as she caught 
sight of Phil triumphantly catching onto 
the rear platform of the car. 

"I remember when Tom was just 
about his age and father had planned 
to have a family group taken. Tom 

took it into his head he wouldn't go. We 
spent a whole morning persuading him 
— mother and I in tears all the while. 
When he finally did go, he looked so 
black he spoiled the whole picture. Time 
after time — •" 

At each succeeding word of reminis- 
cence, Tom Ferrin burrowed his head 
a little farther into the stock page of 
the newspaper. Finally with the story 
which he had heard six times since 
Aunt Ruth's arrival, he crumpled his 
paper furiously, stared blackly at her 
for a minute, then fell to crunching his 
toast, alternating each mouthful with a 
rather martyr-like glance toward Aunt 

Again mother felt the danger line 
was being approached. Practice along 
such a line had made her proficient, and 
now she rushed forth with flushed cheeks 
to the rescue. This was a more difficult 
matter to remedy than that between Phil 
and Frances. 

"Father, did you know Frances is to 
have an oration?" 

"A what?" he demanded as though 
his wife were announcing that their daugh- 
ter was making her debut and needed sev- 
eral new ball gowns. 

"An oration— no, not Fourth of July, 
but when she graduates from school in 
two weeks." 

Tom Ferrin turned a surprized, bewil- 
dered look on his daughter and regarded 
her in blank amazement for a second. Was 
that. . . that baby to graduate from 
high school? She was small, and pretty. 
Her light blue bow set off her fair skin and 
hair — she couldn't be old enough for that. 
Why, she was making an awful mess of 
her egg as usual — it was preposterous to 
think of that baby getting through frac- 
tions, let alone geometry. Nevertheless 
the baby put down her egg spoon and 
perked up her big sailor tie proudly. 

"There are sixty in our class and only 
four have orations," she announced. 

" Fine — dad's proud of you — taking after 
your mother — aren't you? Can we all sit 
in the front row?" 

She pulled his moustache playfully 




as he bent over her chair on his way to 
the hall. 

"My goodness, mother — how old is 

"Sixteen last July," came from Aunt 
Ruth, promptly. 

"We're getting old, we're getting old, 
mother," and he glanced at his watch. 
"Was that car going down or up?" and 
he hurried to the bay window. 

A moment later, hat and paper in hand, 
he stuck his head in the hall door. 

"Need anything from town to-day?— 
can't get home for lunch. What's your 
essay going to be about, Frances?" 

There was a distinct pause while mother 
went on brushing his coat assiduously. 
Finally Aunt Ruth began — 

"Now Tom, just because you don't 
believe in it yourself — " 

"But I don't know what it is." 

" It's, it's—," and Frances wrinkled up the 
table-cloth in angry little puffs — "it's — 
I didn't choose it — It's woman's suffrage." 

If it had been silent before it was 
doubly so now. You could hear Cora 
washing dishes in the kitchen and the 
ice-man filling the refrigerator. 

"Of all the subjects to give a child 
like you," he burst forth, emphasizing 
his remarks by hitting the door jamb 
with his folded up newspaper — "perfect 
nonsense. I'll not have you writing 
on such a subject. Why didn't they 
give you the Rise and Fall of the Consu- 
late and Empire for something easy?" 

"It's one of the most up-to-date sub- 
jects, Tom," put in Aunt Ruth. 

"Suffrage — bah," and the paper ripped 
up one side. "Nonsense!" and he 
hurled it behind the radiator and banged 
the door. 

Frances and mother hurried out after 

"I didn't choose it, father," called 
Frances, tears in her eyes, but, like Phil, 
he had caught on the bottom step of the 

"I had hoped Tom could help Frances 
with her essay, but that seems to be out 
of the question now," remarked mother, 
gathering up crumbs by Marion's place 
and folding Phil's napkin. "He is so 

"Prejudiced," put in Aunt Ruth, "plain 
stubborn I should call it. When he 
was a little fellow we called it determi- 

nation, but now it's nothing but plain stub- 
bornness. I never saw such an ornery little 
boy, and I believe he is worse now. You 
just spoil him, Helen. If he was my hus- 
band, I'd give him mutton until he did 
like it. You just indulge him. What does 
he know about suffrage? Just what he 
has learned from some of those young 
fellows in the office. Why don't you 
take him to some lectures on the subject?" 

"I've tried," answered mother, 
taking the withered bouquet from the 
table, "but once Marion had a sore 
throat and we couldn't go, and twice 
he wouldn't go. You know last spring 
when we were in Philadelphia, we 
heard Miss Pankhurst and I was" — here 
she paused to put in fresh flowers and 
view the effect, "I was positively ashamed 
of my husband. He made the most 
tactless remarks. At the reception 
afterwards he told Mrs. House that 
if he could see one attractive, really stylish 
woman who believed in suffrage he might be 
converted, — Imagine ! " 

Aunt Ruth set down her cup of coffee 
and preened herself. 

"He has you and me." 

"But — I — I — you know I don't really 
believe in it. . . . I mean I do, but 
Tom is so very much against it. And 
it's such a bad example to the children 
to have arguments." 

At this point mother was called to 
find Marion's book strap, which had 
been used as a puppy leash by Phil and 
was accordingly missing. When she 
came back from kissing the two girls 
good-bye Aunt Ruth had a whole 
array of arguments, but mother fore- 
stalled them. 

"I wonder if we can use those cante- 
loupes we bought yesterday. It's too 
hot for soup these days, yet the children 
need something nourishing when they 
go to school. I don't like Marion's 
hair that way" — as they waved to her 
from the street,— "but she will wear it so." 

"Does Tom ever go to the Woman's 
Club lectures?" asked Aunt Ruth. 

"No, he doesn't see the children much 

"Humph, I thought so," and Aunt 
Ruth drained her cup completely. 

It was two weeks later and the early 
part of June. The hot midday sun 
beat down mercilessly on the little south 



porch outside the dining-room. The 
shades were lowered and a tiny elec- 
tric fan buzzed. Aunt Ruth fanned her- 
self between bites as she sat in father's big 
chair. Marion, her fat little face red 
and shining, devoured unheard-of quan- 
tities of cottage cheese and lemonade. 
Suddenly the door burst open and father, 
very hot and dusty, with his panama on 
the back of his head, popped in. 

"Just stopped for a minute, dear, on 
our way to look at that Bayview prop- 
erty. Looks like a big deal with the 
Salt Lake people. Could you just give us a 
snack of lunch? Osborne is in the ma- 
chine outside." The pretty, dainty little 
table with its vase of pink rambler roses 
was sadly rifled when mother finished gath- 
ering up sandwiches, fruit and cake. 

"It's a scorcher — you women ought to 
be glad you can stay at home to-day," he 
explained as mother went in search of 
a basket. 

" It's almost too hot to go to the card club 
this afternoon," panted Aunt Ruth. 

"I'm not going anyway," replied 
mother. "I've got to get this family's 
best clothes out on inspection for to-night. 
Phil has outgrown every pair of sus- 
penders he ever had, and Marion's dress is 
too short, Frances's underskirt will show 
—it never fails — and besides, her hair 
won't go up. I've heard her mingling ejac- 
ulations and her essay every morning for 
a week while she was fixing it. I've pretty 
capable, but when it comes to getting 
five human beings dressed so they 
will be a credit to me, and 
until we get to the armory, 
when one of them debates 
five minutes whether to 

remain so 
for forty- 
wear four or 

five roses and whether she should have had 
higher or lower heels, is a task be- 
yond me." 

A few hours later mother rested for a 
few minutes in a willow chair on the 
porch. It wasn't quite time to dress, but 
Phil must be called from the empty lot 
across the street. Upstairs everything was 
spread out on its owner's bed. From the 
library she could hear Frances droning 
her oration. If the child didn't stop prac- 
tising she would be a nervous wreck 
with her voice ruined. She did hope 
she could get along with it all right — 
It would please Aunt Ruth so. She 
hadn't heard it herself, but she knew 

that for many weeks the plucky child had 
stayed after school on hot afternoons 
working to be able to "convert" father. 
This converting father was begun by 
Aunt Ruth. It was impossible, yet 
nevertheless diverting. 

Why wasn't father home? Probably 
that was the office machine coming up 
the hill now — no, it wasn't; well, she must 
go and hunt a pair of shoe laces for Phil. 
It didn't take men long to dress, so there 
was no need to worry. 

Out in the cool of the country under- 
neath some enormous old elms, father 
was devouring, as only a city man can, 
country ham and eggs. 

"Wish we'd had time to try that old 
stream just for luck," he said, "but if 
you'll bring out the deed now we'll sign 
it and be on our way. Our machine isn't a 
191 3 model." 

When he sat down at the red clothed 
table in the stiff "front room," he dipped 
in his pen reflectively. What was it 
that was happening to-day? — was it their 
anniversary? — mother's birthday, or the 
card club? He ran through their social 
program as he dated it. The tenth of 
June — surely it was a red letter day. His 
hand stopped in the signature. 

"I'm the biggest ass," he blurted out. 
"To-day is the high school graduation 
and I'm twenty miles from it." 

They started immediately for the ma- 
chine and nearly ran over an officious 
hired man who held open the gate. The 
machine seemed fairly to crawl through 
the dust. Although the sun had gone 
down, it was as hot as before. They 
took off their hats and put them on the 
sack of rhubarb presented by the hos- 
pitable old farmer, and did their best to 
defy all speed laws. Some trouble with 
a broken plug did not help at all, and Ferrin 
felt called upon to remind Osborne that 
he was extremely clumsy with his hands. 
They both tried to fix it, but Ferrin, who 
knew nothing about machinery, gave him- 
self up to sitting under a wild rose bush, 
listening to the crickets and wondering if 
Frances were yet reduced to tears and 
Aunt Ruth to moralizing, or, even worse, 
giving reminiscences. Both were very prob- 

A glance at the town clock assured them 
they would have no time to hurry home, 
since the exercises had already begun. 



Another glance into a mirror in the foyer of 
the auditorium convinced him that he had 
better not try to sit with the family. He 
didn't have his ticket, and the man in the 
box office probably wouldn't believe that 
the dusty, red-burned, collar-wilted individ- 
ual was father of one of the performers. 

He bought a ticket to the gallery and 
clambered over two daintily gowned 
women to a vacant seat. A glance at the 
program reassured him — Frances came next 
— there it stood, "Frances Elizabeth Ferrin 
— The Freeing of Women," in black, bold 
type. Would that squeaky voiced boy 
never finish? Frances was at least pretty 
and graceful, if she did speak on that per- 
fectly absurd subject. A further glance 
assured him of mother, Phil, Aunt Mary, 
and Marion all in their best clothes in the 
second row — all looking a little worried, a 
little proud, and rather anxious about the 
vacant seat in their row. He felt as never 
before, even in his most sentimental mo- 
ments, the power of the Vacant Chair. 

A thunderclap of applause greeted the 
youth's conclusion, and in a second Frances, 
prettier than ever in her paleness, came 
to the front of the stage. Her big blue 
bow was gone and her hair done low in her 
neck. Ferrin realized more than ever his own 
discomfort when he saw her cool white dress 
and shoes. For a minute she seemed un- 
able to say a word, but stood, hands clasped, 
perilously near the edge of the platform. 
Then she looked — could it be? — straight 
at him, and began. At least he thought 
she began — her gestures from time to time 
indicated something of the sort, but not a 
word reached him. She looked so pretty, 
she must be saying something interesting. 
He hung as far over the balcony as he dared 
and grew rather uncomfortable when she 
never took her eyes from him. Once when 
the people behind him had settled down 
and the electric cars had ceased to roar by, 

he caught "classed with criminals, imbe- 
ciles and degenerates," and applauded vig- 
orously. He spent the remainder of the 
time trying to sink down into his seat to 
hide his dirty collar and tie. 

When she finished he fairly outdid him- 
self applauding, and Frances's face behind 
her armful of red roses was pink and smiling. 
He knew nothing of what happened later — 
only he felt very hot and bored. Some of 
the essays were so childish, he reflected. 

Although he searched everywhere for 
his family in the throng, he was just in time 
to see Frances hop into a machine with the 
youth of the squeaky voice and ride away. 
She was growing up, after all. He re- 
luctantly caught the first car home, know- 
ing that they were assembled in the living 
room to greet him. He delayed going up 
the steps as long as possible. At the screen 
door Frances, all smiles and roses, met him. 

"Father, I never could have done it if 
you hadn't smiled at me so encouragingly 
— you're a dear — if you are all dusty." 

"Tom Ferrin," and mother put her arm 
in his, "you're an awful sight, but I've a 
confession to make. I forgot to tell you 
to remember this evening and we saw you 
afterwards, but we came home without you 
to punish old dusty you. Aren't you proud 
of our daughter?" 

"She's all right, if she doesn't know any- 
thing about suffrage," put in Phil. 

"Aunt Ruth and I agree she was the best 
on the program. She does know something 
about suffrage. In fact I'm a helpless vic- 
tim. I've been converted," — and he pullled 
mother and Frances close — "by a pretty 
woman. You've done what Sylvia Pank- 
hurst couldn't do, little girl, and I think 
all pretty women should vote," as lie dis- 
entangled a thorny rose and Frances's head 
from his shoulder. 

"Another recruit," groaned Phil. 

Evelyn E. Jamieson, 1914. 




(After Josephine Preston Peabody.) 

Outside the snow lies white, 

It drifts and piles where it can; 

But here it is warm and light 

Where I watch the greenhouse man. 

His hands are long and brown, 
He loves (his eyes are blue) 

Each flower's colored gown. 
I know I do, don't you? 

I wonder if he thinks 

It's all like fairies here? 
The reddest fairy winks 

And calls me, "Hear me, Dear?" 

And swift he tells me tales 

Of a hidden far-off land, 
Where .a mortal cries and wails 

To be freed from the fairy band. 

A leaf-green fairy man 

Blows soft an elfin tune; 
The roses sway — again 

I almost think it's June. 

The wind shrieks round the door; 

It whistles and shakes where it can; 
But here is fairy lore 

Where I watch the greenhouse man. 

Berenice Van Slyke, 1913. 


BERLIN streets have none of the 
self-consciousness of our Ameri- 
can ones. There is no conten- 
tion as to rank among them, for 
an all-wise, all-powerful Reigerung 
has settled things once for all. Streets 
there never say, " Isn't it ridiuclous that I 
am a street, when you can all see I should 
be a boulevard at least? " Streets are Gas- 
sen, Strassen, Alleen, Damme or Chausseen 
as the case may be, and there is an end of 
it. True, the Damme and Chausseen 
sometimes have a look of haughty superi- 
ority, but the air seems inherited as with 
some of our fine old Colonial estates. Each 
thoroughfare frankly admits its own 
status: there is no sudden doubling out 
of sight of an unsightly and ragged end. 
Shops, if they are squalid and dejected, 
are openly so; they masquerade behind 
no barricade of pretentious signs. The 
people, too, whether or not from some 
inborn conviction that a Prussian can 
do no wrong, carry on their most inti- 
mate business in the streets. A family 
draws a lumbering cart piled high with 
household goods unconcernedly along 
the most thriving business street of the 
West End; around the corner a mother 
chastises a wayward son in the good old- 
fashioned way; children, with the inso- 
lence of the Prussian rather than the 
innocence of their years, repair deficiencies 
of their dress along the curb-stones. The 
arm of the butcher-boy goes easily around 

the waist of the be-aproned maidservant; 
the laborer drinks his beer and eats his 
Schwarzbot outside the Bier halle; in 
short, all lower-class Berlin literally car- 
ries on the business of life in the streets. 

Quite the opposite is true, of course, 
of hochwohlgeboren society. The fine 
lady does not venture upon the avenue 
until every veil pin and every glove but- 
ton is fastened to her satisfaction. I 
do not believe she would even use her 
handkerchief on the street. When she 
rides, as she almost always does, for whole 
portions of the city are threaded with 
carefully tended bridle paths, she is a 
sternly-boned, eminently conventional fig- 

In spite, however, of the many uses 
to which they are put, the streets of 
Berlin shine with cleanliness. In the 
poorer quarters, down in the Street of 
the Holy Ghost or Bishop's Alley, the 
wind may trace a tiny whirlwind of dust 
over the smooth cobblestones, but else- 
where one can see one self mirrored in 
the shining asphalt. This, too, is due to 
the ever-vigilant Polizei, an institution 
universally feared and obeyed. If one 
throws a bit of paper on the ground, 
it is in imminent danger of the lock- 
up; persons of a dare-devil disposition 
have been known to drop their street- 
car tickets, crumpled very small, into 
the gutter, but I always carefully pre- 
served mine. I remember seeing some 



long streamers of confetti lying on the 
sidewalk the day after Silvesterabend, 
and my knees shook under me. Fancy 
the effect of an apple-core or a banana 
peel! On rainy days there is, unavoid- 
ably, I suppose, a thin overlay of ooze 
on the wooden blocks; it is fascinating 
then to watch the gray-uniformed street 
cleaners, three or four abreast, roll the 
yellow mud along with their rubber 

The buildings add much to the general 
appearance of cleanliness and neatness. 
They are nearly all of cement or of a 
hard gray-white stone, and of uniform 
four-story height. In the same street, 
the buildings have the same general 
architectural features; details may vary, 
but one house looks much like its 
neighbors. This does not happen by 
chance. A wealthy banker once wished 
to build an Italian palace on the best 
residence Allee, but the city fathers 
refused the necessary permission because 
a house of that sort would not 
accord with the prevailing architectural 
style. I can picture their horror at 
Fifth Avenue! The effect, while clean 
and airy, is monotonous; one welcomes 
the vivid splash of color of the unusual 
brick house, and the gay little plots in 
the squares, while if it were not for the 
slender spires of the churches and the 
round tops of trees, the sky line" would 
be quite unbroken. I 

Yet the streets are most picturesque. 
At almost every other street corner 
there is a little oddly shaped square, 
gayly planted with bright flowers. 
Children play there, of course, dirty, 
bedraggled little imps with serious 
faces, and beautifully dressed little 
aristocrats with their Spreewald nurses. 
These have retained their curious na- 
tive costume,- — the short, full skirt, 
bright pink or blue or red — buckled shoes, 
velvet jacket, and wonderfully starched 
and folded white head-dress, with a 
tiny apron to match. The wrinkled 
flower-women with their gay wares light 
up the street-corners and their "Janz 
schen — kofen sie een" gives the ear the 
same thrill that the Spreewald costume 
causes the eye. 

The Spreeufer, too, no matter where 
one meets it, is sure to be picturesque. 
If one comes upon it from the cool depths 

of the Tiergarten, the sight of the stately 
houses on the farther side, with the 
brown water so motionless within its 
narrow confines, strikes one like an old 
picture. Further down a tall yellow 
pier catches a warm ray of sunlight and 
warms it into life. If one follow the 
Spree still farther down towards its 
mouth where other branches join it, one 
seems to step into the Middle Ages. Great 
heavy, flat-bottomed boats are being 
poled along by strong silent men. Occa- 
sionally one glimpses the head of 
a curious woman thrust out from a 
scuttle. Often she has a peasant's head- 
dress, and there are peasant's clothes 
drying on the line stretched between the 
corners of the deck. She will meet 
one's stare with a sullen, frightened look. 
Little rowboats dart about among the 
flatboats; their chief aim is the confu- 
sion of the boatmen; unloading fruit and 
vegetables is quite a secondary concern. 

One has drifted with the Spree to 
the Museuminsel. The Kaiser Friedrich 
Museum planted firmly at the top of it, 
where the two arms of the slow-moving 
river come together, faces one hostilely 
like some mediaeval fortress. Yet just 
behind it workmen are raising a start- 
lingly white Greek temple, and to the 
left across the bridge are the long low 
lines and warm hues of the Kinderklinik! 
It lies curiously, this Museum Island, nosing 
into the commercial quarter, and turning 
its back squarely on the palaces of emperor 
and prince, although some of its art galleries 
to that side are not so ill-mannered. 

Groups of students swing past on their 
way to or from one of the quaint restau- 
rants where one may get a good dinner 
for fifteen cents, "bier inclusif," selbtver- 
standlich. Their jaunty air and free 
step would proclaim them, did not the 
colored caps, slashed faces, and large 
and impressive leather portfolios. Two 
girl students appear; they, too, would 
be difficult to mistake. The stamp of a 
great purpose is on their brows, obscured 
by no interfering curls or strands of hair; 
the fire of intellectual fervor blazes 
from behind their eye-glasses. They dis- 
play a fine disregard for the niceties of 
dress, and one feels that they must be 
very noble and virtuous. But Vice, 
swinging his walking stick across the 
the street, is so much more attractive! 



Perhaps one follows them as far as 
the yard of the University. There the 
sombre pile frowns dusty and academic; 
a group of laborers repairing the Dorotheen 
Strasse seems to offer more variety. 
There are about twenty of them, — short, 
sturdy, silent, clad in clothes of a non- 
descript color and character. A cart 
in their midst supports a huge, glowing 
brazier of copper, from which the smooth 
handles of pickaxes and drills protrude 
in all directions. A keg of black tar 
drips slowly into a wide-mouthed pail. 
Several workmen are seated around the 
brazier in the cart, others stand about, 
in ungraceful attitudes. The red glow 
of the coals lights up their bronzed 
faces: one fancies a group of gnomes sur- 
prised at Vulcan's forge. Away to the 
left four workmen are solemnly driving 
a stake. Each in turn lifts his mallet 
high above his head and with his whole 
strength brings it down upon the stake. 
Perfect economy, not a superfluous action, 
not a stroke fails of its goal. Suddenly tools 
are thrown aside, and everyone throws 
back his head. Passers-by stand still 
and gaze at the sky. A curious whir- 
ring sound, and presently the long, tan- 
colored airship, — "Das Militarluftschiff!" — 
glides into view. Having satisfied them- 
selves that it is still whole, the pedes- 
trians lose all interest in so common a 
sight, and leisurely go about their busi- 

No one hurries in Berlin. It would 
be as bad form as to greet a fellow-stu- 
dent at the University or to refrain from 
the "Hoch, der Kaiser!" I have spent 
three-quarters of an hour in registering 
a letter, and then thinking to make up 
lost time by taking the train down town, 
I have waited fifteen minutes in a driz- 
zling rain — it is always drizzling in Berlin, 
— for the right car, only to have it sail 
by, while the conductor complacently 
remarks "Besezt!" The seats are all 
taken and the passengers can't have 
some one jostling them in the aisle, be- 
cause that person is vulgar enough to 
be in a hurry. But why should these 
people hurry? They have all day, and 
all night, and if that be not enough, all 

to-morrow. The shops are open until 
nine o'clock — the restaurants never close. 
In winter the streets are garishly lighted 
up from three o'clock in the afternoon 
until nine the next morning. Life does not 
really begin until the electricity is turned 
on. The shop- windows glow; crowds 
stream up and down the main streets, — 
leisurely, interested, chattering in a hun- 
dred languages. Wicked, leering little Japs 
pass ; grave Chinese ministers of state with 
leather portfolios; sometimes a couple of 
Oriental children, clad in wondrous-col- 
ored fabrics. Officers and soldiers punc- 
tiliously receiving and giving salutes, or 
detachments of infantry or cavalry return- 
ing to barracks, add gay notes of color and 
sound ; trim Americans, chattering in their 
high-pitched voices, vainly try to push 
ahead ; the occasional party of English 
with their queer clothes and pleasant 
voices, deliberates at the street cross- 
ings ; German housewives with their arms 
full of bundles forge stolidly ahead, aloof 
from the crowd. The German man, on 
the other hand, lets his eye linger loving- 
ly upon the crowd, as if it were in some 
sort the work of his hands, and he had 
a right to be proud of it. 

Life is at its height about the "middle 
of the evening," anywhere from eleven to 
three. Then Berlin loses whatever peculi- 
arities it possesses and becomes purely cos- 
mopolitan. The same procession flickers 
by as in every large city, — restless youth, 
and disillusioned age, ladies bearing a 
startling resemblance to the Secession post- 
ers flaring on the walls beside them, lone, 
hurrying street women with their bitter 
painted smiles, merry crowds of students, 
returning playgoers, — all eager and restless. 
The lights shine steadily, the wind blows 
a fresh breath down the avenue, and the 
tree-tops sigh mysteriously. Uncompre- 
hendingly one feels the wild longing, 
the pulsing and the throbbing; Life is 
beating in one's ears. One does not 
know what it all means, — one does not 
care to know — but one is ready to cast 
one's fate with that of the flickering pro- 
cession. The spectator will no longer 
watch the streets, — he will be of them. 
Elizabeth R. Htrsh, 1913. 




Six or seven years ago some verses called Ochrida 
Blue were published by A. Balabanoff. The al- 
lusions seem to me so timely that we reprint them. 
They have been set to a beautiful melody. 

Translated, with editorial foot-note, from the 
Bulgarian daily, Mie. The capital of the Balkans 
under the great Tsar Simeon was on Lake Ochrida 
and tradition tells of ruins buried beneath its waters 

A. I. Locke. 

I know of a sceptre 'neath Ochrida blue, 
Bejewelled with rubies of ruddiest hue, 
And whoso shall pluck it from waters so 

Shall straightway be crowned in Solon 

From Danube to Marmora he shall be king, 
The King of the Balkans, as singers do 


I know of a lyre beneath Ochrida blue 
Bejewelled with rubies of ruddiest hue, 
And whoso shall pluck it from waters so 

Shall straightway make verses of beauty 

His name to the ages with glory shall ring, 
The Bard of the Balkans, as singers do 


I know a wee cottage by Ochrida blue, 

All covered with grape-vines and hidden 

from view, 
Within the wee cottage there sits a dear 

What pearls in her mouth, and what gold 

in her braid! 
To you be the sceptre, the lyre and the rue, 
To me the wee cottage by Ochrida blue. 


straight for our ship! Boat after boat 
followed, and, as they drew nearer us, we 
could see how very crowded they were, 
each one holding about forty or fifty men. 
The Arabs, all standing, presented a most 
extraordinary picture in their gayly colored, 
long, loose robes and with their scarfs 
bound to their heads by coils of rope, 
wound round and round. Upon approach- 
ing our ship's ladder, the little boats 
halted, and a dark,- impetuous officer 
sprang out. The step from the boats to the 
ladder was a high one, the robes of the 
Arabs were very long and loose and 
naturally got in the way, and, as a final 
incumbrance, each Arab carried with him 
huge bundles and numerous bottles, evi- 
dently all his worldly possessions. Almost 
every Arab tripped on his robe and fell 
down, half on the ladder and half in the 
water, all his possessions tumbling with 
him. Thereupon the officer, instead of 
giving a helping hand to the unfortunate 
one, lifted his whip and struck the poor 
creature, who was vainly endeavoring to 
struggle to his feet, such a blow that he 
fell down again stunned, only to pick him- 
self up the next minute to be out of the 
way of more unfortunate ones. However, 
the Arabs never seem to get discouraged, 

THE shores of the little harbor of 
Tripoli were thronged with count- 
less gaily clad Arabs, all waiting 
to be taken to Beirut, to join the 
Turkish army. The tiny Russian ship, 
on which we were passengers, was the 
only vessel in sight, and therefore was the 
center of interest. For a ship of its size, 
it already had an enormous number of 
passengers on board. Those of the first 
class were crowded into a tiny cabin in the 
stern of the ship and had one little deck, 
just large enough to allow them to assemble 
to see the worse condition of their neigh- 
bors. These were the deck passengers, 
who lay huddled together on the deck 
below, so crowded that there was not even 
room to walk through between them, 
every spare inch of space being occupied 
by blankets and bundles of food, for these 
passengers had to sleep out on the deck at 
night and were not furnished any food by 
the ship. Looking down into the hull of 
the vessel, Turkish soldiers in their tan 
uniforms could be seen, playing games, 
singing or dancing in their weird way, or 
eating their portions of bread and water 
out of huge common bowls. 

How great then was our surprise, to see 
small boats, filled with Arabs, heading 



but take all harsh treatment as a matter 
of course. So it was with each one. The 
whipping continued steadily and yet was 
scarcely noticed by the Arabs. As a re- 
sult of all the stumbling and whipping and 
falling, their entrance into our ship was 
very slow, but, at the same time, most 

The thought that bothered us was how 
all the many, many Arabs could find room 
for themselves in our already crowded 
ship. But the soldiers were treated very 
much like so many cattle, and as long a 
there was standing room for them on the 
ship, they were expected to be contented. 
Standing room! It could hardly be called 
even that. All the hundreds of Arabs were 
jammed together on the bow of the boat. 
There they had to stand all day long, 

unable to move, much less to sit down, and 
without a bite to eat. Yet no discontent 
was shown. On the contrary, they seemed 
very happy and full of life. In the after- 
noon, when one of their officers made 
them a speech, they were so enthusiastic 
and shouted so loudly, that the whole ship 
seemed to tremble from the noise. 

At last the beautiful harbor of Beirut 
came within sight, and, as the little boats 
flocked around our ship to take us ashore, 
the Arabs' shout of joy rang still stronger 
and clearer, seeming to say, "We are 
happy, no matter how we are treated. We 
are contented with the management of 
our military affairs, because we know of 
no better way. If you wish us to find fault, 
you must teach us." 

Marion Gray Warner, 191 6. 




ERY often we are told that the 
"life" at college is what makes 
the four years worth while. Most 
of us are firmly convinced that 
it is so. We do not fail to give due impor- 
tance to studies, but we appreciate particu- 
larly the advantages of meeting with our 
fellow-beings. Naturally, conceptions of 
"life" vary. Most of us pass through all 
the stages of spreads, Socialist clubs, and 
suffrage lectures, not being at all sure which 
is most typical. And after a while some 
of us come to the realization that what we 
seek is association with people who are 
thinking and doing things. We begin to 
look for those of our fellow-students who 
seem to represent the vital forces of college 

A severe jolt startles the earnest seeker 
after intellectual refreshment at most 
colleges of to-day. Something is not quite 
as it should be. The majority of these girls 
are not giving or taking from the college 
all that they might. The young Socialist 
in "Stover at Yale" declares that one pays 
good money for tuition, not to give but to 
get. But we are apparently doing neither 
to any appreciable degree. 

The question at present is: What 
does college do to justify its claim to the 
title of an intellectual centre? Surely it 
ought to have that title. A college is, ac- 
cording to all traditions, an institution of 

learning: and it is supposed to be a sort of 
breeding place of good taste, of refinement, 
of cultured criticism, and intelligent crea- 
tion. It would not be hard to devise an 
establishment at which a girl might live 
quite elegantly, if she chose, and find plenty 
of time to complete her musical education 
in comic operas without skipping the serial 
stories in all the current magazines. It 
would not be required that she read Gals- 
worthy or even know that John Warfield 
exists. She would owe it to nobody to 
think a thought or form an idea beyond her 
elected horizon. She would be under no in- 
tellectual obligations whatsoever. But a 
college is founded on a different basis. 
Since it heads the institutions for general 
education, it ought to affect its students so 
that they may become real influences in 
the thought and progress of their small 
communities and, consequently, of the 
whole country. 

No college can bring this about by the 
mere strength of its courses and the worth of 
its professors. The standard of scholarship 
is not a determining feature. Here at Welles- 
ley our rewards are not easily won, and 
Phi Beta Kappa is a recognition of attain- 
ment not to be lightly regarded. Our girls 
do good work as far as work goes. And 
there lies the trouble. When work stops, 
that is the end of it. The final touch put 
to a paper is, in reality, the final touch. 



Work and play are entire strangers, and, if 
they meet now and then, it is but an oc- 
casion for one to nod coldly to the 
other. The relation that should exist 
between the two, that happy amica- 
ble state in which clear, good thought 
becomes the keenest sort of play, and the 
most enjoyable play shows the effect of 
thought — this is practically lacking. We 
decide that we need relaxation. We read 
Gouverneur Morris' latest rubbish. Why? 
Because it is considered good form to be 
acquainted with all current literature, re- 
gardless of merit. We have been told 
almost as long as we have lived in college 
that everyone needs a "lark" sometimes. 
Glancing hastily at the theatre column, 
we go to see the "Firefly" in preference to 
the Irish Players, because "we've thought 
enough for one week." We fail to grasp 
the significance of true relaxation. We 
do not see that inane trash stultifies in- 
stead of invigorating; that froth is no 
more refreshing than nothing at all. 

We talk of co-operation and co-ordination. 
But in this business of brains, we fail to 
co-ordinate, to relate our work to our lives. 
For example, we write one good, intelli- 
gent statement in criticizing a piece of fic- 
tion for a literature course. Do we think 
of applying that same standard to one of 
the charming novels we read on the train? 
Our psychology, our history, our language 
courses offer purely academic interests. 
We do not attempt to link them with our 
common lines of thought — they are too much 
like the "best parlors" of New England 
fame, not to be enjoyed every day but re- 
quiring assiduous duty and not too fre- 
quent exhibitions to visitors. 

Then, too, there is another field in which 
we make no attempt to formulate stand- 
ards of taste. Occasionally we turn our 
clever minds to creative work. And we 
abuse those clever minds so shamefully that 
it is a wonder we are permitted to keep 
them. It is a precious trust, that power 
to make, to do. How often are we worthy 
of it? While we are at college, being 
young, we must perforce imitate. And 
following a curious human twist, we do not 
always imitate the best. The enormous 
waste of good brains and good ability is 

How is it that some girls of indisputable 
mental possibilities prefer cheap books to 
good ones? W 7 hy do they talk, see and write, 

drivel, instead of at least aiming for some- 
thing better? The charge of cowardice is 
unpleasant, yet cowards we are. We're 
afraid, afraid, afraid! We fear the con- 
cealed smile of the Senior we admire when 
we give forth what she thinks a "highbrow" 
opinion. We fear the scorn of the youth 
who comes to see us when he finds that we 
do not dislike Ibsen. We fear the papers 
with their cartoons of suffragettes and the 
acquaintances who believe us poseurs. We 
will not allow people to say with arched 
eyebrows," Oh, she has been to college!" 
in that explanatory tone that damns our 
four years and our bachelor's degree. 

Why are we ashamed of bearing the im- 
press of the college we sentimentally sere- 
nade as our Alma Mater? If we do not 
want to reflect her teaching, why, oh, why, 
do we overcrowd an institution which we 
are hindering in the fulfilment of a sacred 
trust? How can this foster parent, dedi- 
cated to our intellectual development, be 
consistently loved and respected if she 
sends us away superficially a little cleverer 
but fundamentally not a whit saner than 
when we arrived? 

We are individually to blame if our col- 
lege does not succeed in her purpose. W 7 e 
are at fault through our own failure to ap- 
preciate true standards, to discriminate, 
to select. A class of girls notable for small 
talk and dress rather than for force and 
individuality becomes powerful within our 
walls. Some of us even thank Heaven for 
the fashionable dolls whose appearance will 
save us all from the reputation of being 
" frumps." But the young woman who has a 
few ideas unconnected with the latest dances 
she whom we call the typical college girl, is 
nevei a frump. She has too much sense not 
not to make herself as attractive as possi- 
ble, knowing that a dowdy, unkempt wom- 
an has no charm, however massive her 
brain. And she impresses the world with 
her good taste in dress, as well as in speech, 
amusement, and thought. Unfortunately, 
this young woman is not so strongly in evi- 
dence in the colleges as she should be. She 
is the type that ought to predominate, 
that ought to represent the college. After 
we begin to realize where we fall short of 
the desirable, she will soon make her ap- 

It is odd that a community as wide- 
awake as W T ellesley should be so long in 


opening her eyes to the present situation, use. We are everlastingly reforming forms 

But the fact that we alone are not to be and we make no effort to strengthen the 

blamed does not lessen our responsibility, bond between our lives and our work, and, 

We are naturally progressive. We talk in this way, to create that atmosphere of 

continually about changes, we wrangle intellectual zest and activity which ought 

over point systems, and honor systems, to prevade and enrich our college life, 

and non-academic activities, until the SyLVIA T GouLSTON> Igi , 
words become lairly tattered Irom over- 




President of Christian Association, 


President: Ida H. Appenzeller. 
Vice-president: Elizabeth Limont. 
Missionary Committee: Miss Nichols. 
Religious Meetings Committee: Miss Stone. 
Treasurer: Ruth Lindsay. 
Mission Study Committee: Margaret Christian. 
Bible Study Committee: Helen Husted. 
Social Committee: Calma Howe. 
Extension Committee: Eleanor Boyer. 
General Aid Committee: Frances Alden. 
Corresponding Secretary: Mary Torrence. 
Recording Secretary: Katharine Balderston. 


"It will be a hundred-year job to transform 
the shopping mob into enlightened, intelligent 
people," someone warned the inaugurators of the 
Consumers' League at the time of its formation, 
fourteen years ago; but he was met only by the 
cheery reply: "Then the sooner we get started, the 

What the purpose of the League has been since 
that courageous beginning, was made clear to us 
in a lecture in College Hall Chapel, on Monday 

night, April 21, by Mrs. Florence Kelly, the Nation- 
al Secretary. A bare summary of her forceful state- 
ments may be of interest to the large number who 
missed the opportunity of hearing her. 

This year, there will be held in Antwerp the 
second quinquennial conference of the International 
Consumers' League. At the first conference, held 
in Geneva in 1908, twenty countries were repre- 
sented. By 1910, England had put into successful 
operation a minimum wage law for four entirely 
unlike trades. In Australia such a law exists in 
practically all trades. Just at this time in America, 
there is "a great prairie fire of a movement" in that 
direction, which is taking a wrong course in all too 
many cases. It is a hard problem, to manage in- 
dustrial legislation in forty-eight states with such 
varied constititions. "The Progressive Party 
came along, adopted the idea, cut off its head and 
tail, and made a hideous cripple of it. Now the 
Consumers' League tries to rehabilitate it." In- 
stead of carrying the whole spirit of democracy into 
industry, as England has done, the Progressives 
have made their bills apply only to women. In 
confining trade boards to women, a most inportant 
social benefit has been ignored. The trade board 
should keep track of the men, and their ability or 
non-ability to support their families. 

If we are enlightened and conscientious con- 
sumers — if we do not add to the Saturday and 
Christmas rushes, and if we go to the inconvenience 
of insisting upon Consumers' League labels — we 
shall have a moral claim upon proper industrial 
conditions. We must get men into the legislatures 
and the courts who understand and can interpret 
our ideals. Our fundamental principles are wrong. 
If we had the ideal that all industry ought to be as 
agreeable as any of college, we have the wealth 
and the technical devices to carry it out. Men 
purify the air in their factories for the benefit of 
their laces and candies, and regulate their temper- 
ature for the best preservation of their, meat and 
furs. They can do as much for human beings. 
The revolution of thought which will bring such 
ideals into industry will be no greater than the 
revolution in the attitude toward slavery, which 
characterized the last generation. The attention 
of the college to the social and industrial problems 
of the day is a great asset in realizing this aim. 

There are three things which consumers must 
do, to bring about this ideal of pleasant, humane, 
industrial conditions: first, to know what present 
evil conditions exist; second, to insist upon legisla- 
tion against those conditions; and third, to be will- 
ing to pay for the change. 




It has occurred to the present board that the 
News would be more interesting if illustrated. 
We have voted to have it so, if possible, and the 
Committee on Publications has passed on our pro- 
posal. It now remains for the student body to 
agree to it. We ask for your hearty support, and 
for your vote "Yes" or "No" on the following 
amendment, on May 2, at the elevator table. 
Amendment I to Constitution of College News: 
The Wellesley College News shall be per- 
mitted to contain illustrations in both its weekly 
and monthly issues, as follows: 

1. Approved pictures of Barn, Class and So- 
ciety plays, of Field Day, May Day, Tree Day and 

2. Approved pictures of individuals prominent 
in college (as is now allowed). 

3. Other pictures of general interest (such as 
pictures of new buildings). 

4. Decorative cuts. 

This shall be permitted so long as the News is 
able to meet the expenditure caused thereby, and 
no longer. 


Some of the most valuable Boccaccio manuscripts 
in our Plimpton Collection are being exhibited this 
week in the second floor corridor of the College Libra- 
ry to commemorate the six hundredth anniversary 
of Boccaccio's birth. Among the most famous 
■ are two manuscripts of "The Life of Dante" dating 
from 1477, and some remarkable annotated reference 
books. No member of the college should fail to 
examine this exhibition. 


afternoon of April 26. The score was 17-5 in favor 
of 1913. The teams were as follows: 

P. Ada Herring 

C. Josephine Guion 

1st B. Stella Ream 
2d B. Helen Ryan 
3d B. Elizabeth Brown 
R. S. S. Gladys Cole 
L. S. S. Marjorie Cowee 
R. F. Gladys Smith 
L. F. Janet Moore 
Substitutes: Helen Logan 

Gladys Gorman 
Kathryn Schmidt 
Frances Robinson 
Marjory Boynton 
Marjorie Menamin 
Marjory Day 
Elizabeth McConaughy 
Henrietta Gilmore 
Ida Appenzeller 

Dorothea Havens 
Helena Stewart 

W'S were awarded to 

Ada Herring 
Josephine Guion 
Stella Ream 
Elizabeth Brown 
Marjorie Cowee 

Gladys Gorman 
Kathryn Schmidt 
Marjorie Menamin 
Elizabeth McConaughy 


An enthusiastic audience watched the Senior- 
Junior baseball game at Hemenway Hall on the 

Saturday, May 3, in the afternoon, May Day 
Evening, 19 14 Social. 

Sunday, May 4, Houghton Memorial Chapel, 11 
A. M. Preacher, Rev. Anson Phelps Stokes, Jr. 
Vespers, 7 P. M. Address by Rev. Tissington 
Tatlow, General Secretary of British Student 

Monday, May 5, Shakespeare Society House, 7.30 
P. M., Deutscher Verein will give a Farce. 

Tuesday, May 6, College Hall Chapel, 4.30 P. M_ 
Address by Professor Norton for all students in- 
tending to teach. 

Wednesday, May 7, Christian Association meeting 
at College Hall Chapel, 7.30 P. M. Leader, Ida 
Appenzeller, 1914. Subject: "A look forward." 
St. Andrew's Church, 7.15 P. M. Leader, Frances 
Bogert. Subject: "The brotherhood of man." 


will serve 


Every Afternoon from 
3 to 5 O'clock :: :: 

And other attractive specials during these 

Marinello Motor Cream 

New, filling a practical and long-felt 
want, delightfully perfumed, of just 
the right consistency. 

Marinello Toilet Soap 

No matter how rough the hands may 
be, a few days' use of this wonderful 
soap will put them in a good condition. 

For Sale By 


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Tel. 47I-W 




MAY 1, 1913 

NO. 27 


TUnfcerGrafcuate Department 

Lucile D. Woodling, 1914, Editor-in-Chief 
Charlotte M. Conover, 1914, Associate Editor 


Marjorie R. Peck, 1914 E. Eugenia Corwin, 


Charlotte C. Wyckoff. 1915 Dorothea B. Jones, 


Elizabeth Pilling, 1915 Gladys E. Cowles, 

of lEMtors 

Graduate Department 

Bertha March, 1895, Editor 

394 Massachusetts Ave., Boston, Mass. 


Josephine Guion, 1913, Manager 

1915 Ellen Howard, 1914, Assistant 
Laura Ellis. 1913, Subscription Editor 

1915 Bertha M. Beckford, Advertising Manager 

PUBLISHED weekly during college year by a board of students of Wellesley College. Subscription, one dollar and fifty cents, 
in advance. Single copies, weekly number, ten cents; magazine number, fifteen cents. All business communications should 
be aent to "College News Office," Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. Subscriptions should be sent to Miss Laura Ellis, Welles- 
ley College. All Alumnae news should be sent to Miss Bertha March, 394 Massachusetts Ave., Boston, Mass. 


On the afternoon and evening of April 23, a 
Sophomore-Freshman frolic enlivened the routine 
of college life. We would avoid the Dragon Pub- 
licity, and touch but lightly on the exchange of 
class presidents, and the sundry automobile and 
bicycle rides enjoyed by members of both classes. 
Neither will we describe the parade, or the signs 
illuminating Center next morning. It is of what 
such a spring frolic typifies that we would discourse. 
At this time a year ago, we were still faithfully 
keeping up the Wellesley tradition of Forensic 
Burning. Sophomores were "on guard" — delight- 
ful and mysterious performance! They had whistles 
and flashlights and passwords, which were insig- 
nificant in themselves, but which stood for some- 
thing that is, to our mind, essential. When a 
whistle blew, girls came running together who had 
hardly known each other before; they whispered, 
consulted, planned. 1914 got acquainted. Girls who 
couldn't play hockey or basket-ball, who couldn't 
write songs, who couldn't do anything unusual 
or distinctive for their class, had suddenly a chance 
to serve it. They became a vital part of it, class 
spirit grew, and inter-class spirit waxed strong. 
Nobody had time to be lazy or have the more 
languorous forms of spring fever. There was a 
healthy, invigorating excitement in the air. Life 
was just like an adventure! 

Nor did we let the academic suffer. Guarding 
periods stand out most vividly in our memories, 
yet they only came once or twice a day. And in 
the long stretches between, we did our lessons 
faithfully, as the class-room records prove. It was 
a point of class honor to do them. In our opinion, 
the Forensic Burning excitement gave an added 
zest to lessons. It acted like a tonic to rouse us 
from that lethargy too often felt on sunny clays, and 
to make us put a keen effort into everything we 

1913 has burned its Forensic, and 1914's guard- 
ing days are over. But those days are not handed 
down to 191 5. They are over for good! We can 
only bewail them now, and say, "Wasn't it won- 
derful!" And we suppose that bye and bye folks 
will say: "Yes, you know a while back they used 
to have 'Forensic Burning.' The Juniors tried to 
burn it, and the Sophomores guarded, or some- 
thing like that." 

Yet, spring fever does and will exist, for though 
authorities may change laws, they cannot change 
girl-nature. And there's a something in us that is 
not forever satisfied w r ith nice little parties, and 
Sunday-school picnics. Though Forensic Burning 
may be abolished, there's a kind of spring fever 
that — who can keep down? 


There is an undercurrent of discussion about 
awarding W's, which reaches little climaxes at 
certain times of the year. After Indoor Meet you 
hear people say: "Why should a girl who already 
has a W in Indoor Meet, be given one again? Why 
should a girl get two Ws in basket-ball? People 
are never given but one Phi Beta Kappa key for 
excellence in studies. Why should not the W be 
just as high a prize in athletics?" And then some- 
one answers: "Yes, but good athletics deserve 
a W just as much one time as another. Awarding 
them is a wonderful incentive, not only for keeping 
training, but for every girl's best effort." 

Both arguments sound convincing, yet neither 
entirely satisfies, unless we are decided already. 
To answer the question satisfactorily we must 
decide how valuable we want our Ws to be. If 
only awarded once in a sport 1 hey are more valuable; 
if given twice in the same sport, their worth is 
lessened. Why not have the W, once awarded, a 



Wanted to Purchase — A Canoe Boat 

The owner could have the use of it until the 
end of the college year. Address, giving price, 

John Loring Rothery, No. 2 Denton Road, Wellesley, Mass. 

something to ever after live up to, an honor too 
high to be reconf erred? 

As for getting Ws in different sports, why not 
have them different? This is done in men's colleges, 
and it seems wisely. Sports would then be more 
distinctive, and a girl's devotion to her own special 
sport greater. 



Representation Without Taxation. 

"Taxation without Representation" has turned 
nations topsy turvy. It would cause a revolution 
in our college government if it existed. Reverse 
the slogan, however, and you more nearly approach 
our present state of affairs. The college year is 
four-fifths over, and oh the Student Government 
Bulletin Board is — and has been for some time — a 
long list of names. Just look down that list! There 
are some eminent citizens among them, who have 
done a goodly share of "representing." All of them, 
we venture to state, have voiced their "Aye's" 
and "No's" and cast their ballots. Yet none of 
them have fulfilled their duty of taxpayers. What 
shall the state do with them? 


Concerning Lectures. 

All through the year the college gives us the op- 
portunity to know what the world is thinking and 
doing, by bringing able and experienced men and 
women to lecture to us on their own particular 
work. These lectures are attended by only a mere 
handful of girls, compared to the number in college. 
A striking example of this was seen on the evening 
of April 21, when Mrs. Florence Kelley, one of 
America's most influential woman citizens, gave 


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For Booklets, Rates, Etc., apply to 

P. N. EVERETT, Manson Bldg., So. Framingham 
or to 

126 State Street, Boston. 

her interesting talk on the work of Con- 
sumers' League to less than one hundred people. 
What is the matter with us? Do we think we can- 
not afford the time for such things? If we do, it is 
evident that we need a readjustment of our days 
(and nights), for any girl, under ordinary condi- 
tions, ought to be able to arrange her work so as to 
leave one evening a week for obtaining some 
knowledge of current events. Or do we consider 
an entirely academic seclusion, away from the work 
and problems of our day, desirable? Surely the 
modern spirit is against such a narrow view of 
things, and if we are going to get a preparation here 
in college for our life afterwards, it is imperative 
that we have an intelligent idea of what the com- 
munity is going to expect of us as college women. 
But if our absence from these lectures is due to 

Capital, $50,000. Surplus and Undivided Profits (earned) $50,000 

DEPOSITORS of the Wellesley National Bank 

Are paid interest and no exchange is charged on collection of checks if the balance is over $300. A 
minimum balance of at least $25 is expected from all customers. Call for one of our railroad time cards. 

Charles N. Taylor, President, Benjamin H. Sanborn, Vice-President, B. W. Guernsey, Cashier. 

HOURS: 8 to 2. Saturday, 8 to 12 M. ADDITIONAL HOURS: Tuesdays and Fridays. 3.30 to 5 P.M. 



Hayden's Jewelry Store, 


Solid Gold and Silver Novelties, Desk Sets and Foun- 
tain Pens, College and Society Emblems made to order. 
Watch and Jewelry Repairing, Oculists' Prescriptions 
Filled, Mountings Repaired and Lenses Replaced. 

C. H. SMITH, D. D. S., 

Dental Office at Residence 

62 Grove Street, :: :: :: Wellesley. 

Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 
Tel. Wei. 215-M. 

laziness or thoughtlessness — do let's brace up! 
The demands of college life are exhausting, but we 
must not forget that we need to know about the 
world outside this little academic and social one 
of ours if we are ever going to be able to live in- 
telligent lives in it. 191 5. 


For the past three years the Wellesley Chapter of 
Phi Beta Kappa has maintained the happy custom 
of an annual " Round Table," inviting some notable 
educator to lead a discussion upon educational 
problems. This year, on March 21, the society was 
honored by a visit from President Meiklejohn of 
Amherst College, who read a paper upon "The Func- 
tion of the College," and initiated thereby a spirited 
and stimulating discussion which the members pres- 
ent — had trains and rules permitted — would gladly 
have continued until midnight.. 

President Meiklejohn began by showing the fal- 
lacy of the common notion that the life of the think- 
er, of the scholar, is one of ease and serene detach- 
ment. On the contrary, his mind must be, as some 
one has said the mind of Darwin was, "a perfect 
-laughter-house of innocent mistakes." In a world 
where error is so fatally easy and so inexorably pun- 
ished, the effort of thought brings not peace, but a 
sword. Thinking is strife, warfare, eager and pas- 
sionate conflict. 

But in what does thinking consist? The process 
analyzed proves to be the attempt to unify, to find 
the single law binding together scattered phenomena. 
In our own day the thinker must seek to reconcile 
three types of conflicting interests, has three chief 
battles to fight. There is first the world-old conflict 
between the hedonist and the Puritan; between the 
claim of pleasure, the instinctive recognition that 
the world is good and to be enjoyed, and the claim 
of the spiritual life, of the ascetic ideal with its insen- 

sitiveness to color and sweetness and human joy. 
There is, again, the religious conflict between the 
doubter, the questioner, who refuses to trust himself 
to any faith for which he does not find abundant evi- 
dence, and the man of faith who finds in life a deeper 
meaning than his intelligence can analyze or explain. 
Finally, and especially in our own time, there is an 
economic conflict between the old order and the new. 
On one side there is the stability of the recognized 
order, with profound distrust of new experiments; 
on the other a judging of the established order by 
ideal standards, a growing belief that the function 
of wealth is to subserve human needs, a reckless, pas- 
sionate demand for a reform that shall bring together 
the wealth and the human need that have been di- 
vorced. We can see the vast conflict gathering. It 
is the duty of the thinker to judge truly and wisely 
the issues involved. 

The training of the thinker competent to deal with 
these questions is — or should be — the mission of the 
college. If it does this work well, it can have no 
time to devote to "vocational " or professional train- 
ing. And to do this work well is to give the college 
course a reality and significance it now, in general, 
lacks. With such training, a youth should go forth 
into the world prepared to do two things — to fight, 
and to wait: to work with a will toward the solution 
of problems which can be solved, to be patient con- 
cerning problems as yet impossible of solution. 

In the discussion that followed, many interesting 
questions arose, such as the relation of various stud- 
ies to the function of the college, the possibility of 
obtaining instructors equipped to carry out the pro- 
gram suggested, the value of awakening young people 
first of all to the most momentous, the most vital 
problems. Though no one felt that in this brief 
evening any issue had even begun to be settled every 
one present felt that he had undergone a process of 
unsettling most wholesome, most prophetic. 

J. M. B. 


Taylor Block 

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frocks and novelties in summer dresses. Exquisite lingerie effects, linens, cotton crepes and other season- 
able fabrics. Latest fancies in dainty neckwear and boutonnieres. 







Season Club Rates for Students, $3.00 

Boats Repaired and Stored. Office Hours, 5 to 6, 
at Boat House. 


Society Alpha Kappa Chi. 

Society Alpha Kappa Chi presented "The 
Daughters of Troy" by Euripides, using the Arthur 
S. Way translation, at their program meeting on 
April 26. 

Scene: The Greek camp before Troy. 
Part I. 

Poseidon Linda Henly 

Athena Mildred Knowlton 

Part II. 

Hecuba Ruth Woodward 

Talthybius Alice Hall 

Cassandra Madelyn Worth 

Andromache Lucia Bailey 

Astyanax Miriam Shoe 

Part III. 

Hecuba Dorothy Dennis 

Talthybius Alice Hall 

Menelaus Elizabeth Ford 

Helen Ruth Waldron 

Chorus. . . / Cecelia Garety 

\ Mabel Barr 

Shakespeare Society Program Meeting. 

Twelfth Night. 
Act II, Scene V. 

Maria Elizabeth Brown 

Malvolio Elizabeth Slattery 

Sir Toby Belch Frances W r illiams 

Sir Andrew Aguecheek Helen South 

Fabian Letteria Villari 

Act III, Scene IV. 

Olivia Marian Parsons 

Viola Olive Croucher 

Maria Elizabeth Brown 

Antonio Ida Appenze ler 

Malvolio Elizabeth Slattery 

Sir Toby Frances Williams 

Sir Andrew He u South 

Fabian Letteria Villari 

First Officer Barbara Hahn 

Second Officer Mary Rosa 

Act V, Scene I. 

Olivia Marian Parsons 

Viola Olive Croucher 

Duke Orsius \. . .Alice Mulligan 

Malvolio Elizabeth Slattery 

Sebastian Marjorie Cowee 

Antonio Ida Appenzeller 

Sir Andrew Helen South 

Fabian Letteria Villari 

First Officer Barbara Hahn 

Priest Susan Wilber 

Clown Virginia Moffatt 


Plot of Twelfth Night Mary Burd 

Shakespeare News Evelyn Wells 

Phi Sigma Fraternity. 

On Saturday evening, April 26, Phi Sigma Fra- 
ternity had a Tradition meeting. Miss Montague, 
Miss Bates, Miss Brooks, Mrs. Edith White Nor- 
ton, '93, Miss Batchelder, Miss Manwaring and 
Mrs. Alice Rossington Pickard outlined the history 
of the society in short informal talks. 





54 Bromfield Street 


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Mail and Telephone Orders Promptly Filled. 

Telephones Oxford 574 and 22167. 






Sing a song of picnics, picnics in the pit, 

Sophomores a-singing, in a circle sit; 

Someone in an auto toward South Natick riding, 

Scout on a bicycle to scene of action gliding; 

'16 in College Hall, having a class meeting, 

'15 in the pit, all song — competing. 

Sing a song of p-rades, p-rades in the spring, 
Little sister trying big sister to out-sing. 
Biggest sister loudest cheers to Sophomores' delight, 
Littlest sister grand good sport, spite of gay torch- 
College all a-stirring to find out what's been done, 
Everybody chuckling over the good fun. 



The Magazine Fool, in looking over some of his 
old foolishness, discovered, near the bottom of the 
pile, these Dooleyan sentiments, seeming to point 
to a peculiar relation between his Alma Mater and 
the newspaper business. He reprints them, in 
order that his present audience may marvel at the 
contrast between those barbarous reports and the 
delicate reserve of present-day journalism. 
Mr. Dooley on Wellesley Publicity. 

"Oi see th't th' pictures iv th' Wellesley debaters 
is in th' paaper," said Mr. Hennessy. 

"Poor things, vis," sighed Mr. Dooley. 
'Tis hard," ventured Mr. Hennessey, "to be 
a public character." 

"Tis thot," replied Mr. Dooley," you and me 
Hinnessey, has got har-rdened to it. We don't 
moind th' glaring publicity iv it; but think, Hin- 
nissey, iv th' tumble effec' it has on the tinder 
sinsibilities iv th' Wellesley debater. Think how 
th' porr thing is drogged befure th' public eye, whin 
she's tryin' her bist to live a modest but remar- 
rkable loife in th' secluded vicinity iv' me friend 
Mr. Shattuck's store. She wishes t' be apart fr'm th' 
base an' sordid wurrld, ixcipt on Monday an' 
Saturday nights, but th' pa-apers won't let her. 
She comes down at sivin forty-nine to a luxoorious 
brikfast iv' prunes, shredded wheat an' omlitt. Out 
it comes in th' Boston Bugles, thinly disguised 
be th' toitle, "How a Wellesley girl eats her Force," 
with a cut iv th' Prisisint iv Student Govinmint 
at th' top, an' 'tis blazoned across th' continent. 
Her frind, th' iditor iv th' Kansas City Screamer, 
sinds her a revised version iv it in his own little 
sheet, jist t' show her that th' west has its eye on 
her. Nixt winter ye'll see the same thing in th' 
Philadelphia Enterprise. She goes to her mail, 
where neat an' fetchin' advartisements from th' 
leadin' importers of Boston awaits her. She uses 
thim t' write her frensics on, not bein' able to 
shpare th' tin cints nccess'ry to buy a block iv 
theme pa-aper. She goes to her biology class, an' 
cuts up a frog with loathin' inprinted on her count'- 
nance, an' th' leadin' clargymin iv th' hour preaches 
a sermon on " Does th' reckless takin' of a harmless 
life degenerate our college girl, or is it Har-rvard?'' 
She is curtain raiser at the Barn, an' th' pa-apers 


Established 1901 

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Prescriptions compounded accurately with purest drugs and chemicals obtainable 

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Thayer, McNeil Company 
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has it, "Daughter of a leadin' Kalamazoo citizen 
goes on th' stage," with a view iv th' picturesque 
little Barn where she got h'r early trainin' an' a 
cut iv me friend Doonan— it flatters him, Hin- 
nessey — who drives her t' Boston f'r her daily in- 
gagemint as leadin' lody at th' Hollis. It points 
with pride to th' fact besides her arjous juties at 
th' t'eayter, she kapes abrist iv her fellystudents in 
her acadimic work. She takes an fthernoon d'hrive 
to Natick with a harmless Frishman frim Yale, 
an' th' nixt mornin' both she an' th' Faculty is 
surprised t' fin' in th' pa-apers that she has eloped 
with th' la-ad, an' is now in Chicago. "Chicago iv 
all places," she screams — -she lives in N'Yawk — • 
an' writes to th' scurrilous sheet remonstratin'. 
But it doesn' do anny good, Hinnessey. They pub- 
lish her letter in a spishal ixtra as an added proof 
iv her duplicity." 

' 'Tis a harrd life she leads," said Mr. Hennessey. 

"Tis thot, Hinnissey. Think iv havin' y'r pic- 
ture in th' pa-apers riprisintin' you with y'r huir 
parted, whin you have wore it pompydoor f'r 
months. Think iv bein' reported to be participatin' 
in a joyous roun' iv festiv'ties at th' Prisidint's 
house, whin ye are grindin' on a philosophy pa-aper 
in a fourt' floor single room in College Hall. Think 
iv it bein' said that ye come frim a small town in 
Illinoy, whin yi father's a hivy taxpayer in one iv 
Chicago's manny remote an' pros'prous suburbs." 
"No daughter iv mine" said Mr. Hennessey of 
Archery Rood, much stirred," sh'll ivir go to 

"Nor mine," said Mr. Dooley, twinkling." And 
kape y'r sons fr'm th' newspaper offices, Hinnessey." 

Winifred Hawkridge, 1906. 


In Billings Hall, Monday evening, May 5, at 
7.45 o'clock, a concert will be given by the College 
Symphony Orchestra. This organization conducts 
its work so quietly that although it is seven years 
old, its very existence is unknown to many members 
of the college. Starting modestly with a programme 
of simple pieces (this was in 1907) it now plays the 
symphonies of Haydn and other things of the less 
exacting modern repertoire. As there are no wood- 
wind, brass or bass players in college among the 
students, a few professional players are engaged 
for each concert to supply the flute, clarinet, oboe, 
trumpet or bass parts. Under Mr. Foster's careful 
training the technique of the orchestra has im- 
proved steadily until it is now able to give a really 
inspiring performance. When one considers that 
this organization studies only the best of symphonic 
music and is loyal to the highest ideals, one realizes 
what it may mean to the college at large. Here we 
have the cause of good music furthered by the efforts 
and leadership of the students themselves. 

What the orchestra now needs is the support of 
the college. The trustees pay the conductor, but 
there is music to be bought, professional assistance 
to be paid for and a few other expenses; the orchestra 
needs to sell three hundred tickets to pay its way. 

Tickets are twenty-five cents, reserved seats 
thirty-five; they are on sale at Room C, Billings 
Hall, at College Hall center and at the door on the 
evening of the concert. 


Will the girl who borrowed a Barn key from Mrs. 
Fair during operetta rehearsals, please return it 
immediately to Juliet Bell. 



George P. Raymond Co. 


5 Boylston Place, Boston, Mass. 
College Dramatic Work a Specialty 


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Call for free booklet. WELLESLEY, MASS. 


VI 1 

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■will at this season be greatly appreciated. 



Columbus Avenue and 72nd Street 


Sold Exclusively in Wellesley by JOHN A. MORGAN & CO, 


Phi Beta Kappa Keys 


3 J West Street, Boston, Mass. 

Temple Place. Lunch, u to 3. Afternoon 
Tea, 3 to 5. Home-made Bread, Cake, Pies, etc., 
Served and on Sale. 

H. L. FLAGG CO. Newsdealers and Station- 
ers. Boston Safety and Moore Non-Leakable 
Fountain Pens. Agents for Wright & Ditson's 
Athletic Goods and Sweaters. 

STURTEVANT & HALEY, Beef and Supply 
Company, 38 and 40 Faneuil Hall Market, 
Boston. Telephone, 933 Richmond. Hotel 
Supplies a Specialty. 

F. H. PORTER, Wellesley Square. Dealer in 
Picture Cord, Coat Hangers, Rods, Mission Stains, 
All kinds small Hardware. Plumbing. 

MAGUIRE, The Norman, Wellesley Sq. 

Dry and Fancy Goods, Novelties. 


but limited purses, our stock is peculiarly adapted. 
Thousands of the latest ideas, 

$1.00 to $10.00 


Summer St., 

OLD NATICK INN, South Natick, Mass. 

One mile from Wellesley College. Breakfast, 
8 to 9, Dinner, 1 to 2, Supper, 6.30 to 7.30. Tea- 
room open from 3 to 6. Special Attention given 
to Week-End Parties. Tel. Natick 8212. Mist 
Harris, Mgr. 

Shop, Alice G. Coombs, Wellesley, '93, Taylor 
Block, Wellesley Square, over Post-Office. Tel- 
ephone Connection. 

Tailby & Sons, Prop., Wellesley, Mass. Office, 

555 Washington St. Tel. 44-2. Conservatories, 
103 Linden St. Tel. 44-1. Orders by Mail or 
Otherwise are Given Prompt Attention. 

WELLESLEY FRUIT CO. Carries a full line 
of choice Fruit, Confectionery and other goods, 
Fancy Crackers, Pistachio Nuts and all kinds 
of Salted Nuts, Olive Oil and Olives of all kinds. 
Middlesex Fruit Co., Natick, Mass. 
Tel. 138W. 

B. L. KART, Ladies' Tailor, 543 Washington 
St., Wellesley Sq. Garments cleansed, pressed 
and repaired. Altering Ladies' Suits a specialty. 
Opposite Post-Office. Telephone, Wellesley 217-R. 


Mark won 1 1 win the game for you, 
but the trade mark on your Tennis 
Requisites assures you of the best 
possible. Catalogue Free. Wright 
& Ditson. Boston, 344 Washing- 
ton St. New York, 22 Warren St. 
Chicago, 119 N. Wabash Ave. San Francisco, 359 
Market St. Providence, 76 Weybosset St. Cam- 
bridge, Harvard Sq. 

Academic Gowns and Hoods 
Cotrell & Leonard 


Official Makers of Academic 
Dress to Wellesley, Radcliffe, 
Mount Holyoke, Bryn Mawr, 
Barnard, Woman's College of Baltimore, Harvard, 
Yale, Princeton, Cornell, Univ. of Pa., Dartmouth, 
Brown, Williams, Amherst, Colorado College, Stan- 
ford and the others. 

Correct Hoods for all Degrees B. A., M. A., Ph.D., etc. 
Illustrated Bulletins, Samples, etc., on Request. 




A. E. Covelle & Co., 

Prescription Opticians 

Special attention to the filling of Oculists' 

350 Boylston Street, Boston 

Cameras and Supplies, Develop- 
ing, Printing and Enlarging. . . 
Ask to see OUR OLD COMFORT Eye-Glass. The 
most Comfortable Eye-Glass in the world. 









For Sale at Morgan's Drug Store 

• • • • rn w* • • • • 

• • • • A A ILi • • . . 

Walnut Hill School, 


A College Preparatory 
School for Girls. . . . 

MISS CONANT ) • . . 
MISS BIGELOW f Princi P als - 


At Economical Prices. 

Successors to H. H. Carter & Co, 

Stationers — Engravers — Printers 

7 Pemberton Square, Sc ti£y of 4 

•Te ■ ■■ ■« ■— 




For Half a Century Marcos Ward's Papers 
have Represented the HIGHEST STAND- 
ARD ef EXCELLENCE in Paper Making 

A Foil Assortment of these Beautiful Pa- 
pers For Sale at the 



Marcus Ward Company, 

Belfast, Ireland New York, U. S. A. 

«^— ^M — — ii ■■ »■ ■> — ■■■ 

C. M. McKechnie & Co. 




Furnished in Any Quantity 
Quality Guaranteed 

No. 10 Main St., Natick, Mass. 

°lease Mention the Wellesley College News. 



What Mamma Said. 

"Mamma wants a package of Lemon 
Jell-O and a package of Strawberry 

Groceryman : "I suppose something 
else wouldn't do, would it ?" 

"Mamma said be sure and get 


because she's got company and she 
wants to visit 'stead of working in the 
kitchen, and everybody likes Jell-O." 

There is the whole thing in a nutshell. 
There is no kitchen drudgery making 
Jell-O desserts, and everybody likes them. 

All grocer's sell Jell-O, 10 cents 
a package. Seven flavors. 

Send lor the beautiful new recipe book, "Desserts oi the World." It is lree. 

THE GENESEE PURE FOOD CO., Le Roy, N. Y., and Bridgeburg, Can, 

The name Jell-O is on every package in big red letters. II it isn't there, it isn't Jell-O. 


Justly Admitted Title to Su- 
premacy, so long held by the 
Chickering Piano, is in evidence 
to-day more than ever before, for the 
present output of our house is superior to 
any we have heretofore produced in our 
Eighty-nine years of continuous busin< 


Nineteen Hundred and Thirteen 

A. L. La Vers Company 

190 Boylston St., 34 Park Sq., Boston " 

New Spring Apparel 


Women, Misses and Juniors 

Our Millinery Especially Attractive 

We Cater Especially to Wellesley Students I Established 1823 


Division American Piano Co. 


Retail Wareroom 

169 Tremont Street 

Opposite the Common 

Boston, Mass. 



A U S T 


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* * * FOR * * * 

Spring Events and . . . 
II Commencement Week . . 

OWNS and frocks secured in the 
Louis Seize Gown Salon of the 


PANY, from those at $25 to those at 
$ 1 50, have each the charm of the latest 
and most correct fashion. They lend 
individuality and distinctiveness to the 



PPROVED fashionable suits in 
widest variety, from $20 to $ 1 25; 
charming offerings of French hand- 
le made and American waists, $1.95;. to 
$65. Exceptional assortments of milli- 
nery, coats, neckwear, hosiery and gloves. 





Opposite Boston Common, 

154, 155, 156 Tremont Street, Boston, Massachusetts.